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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  I^Aicroreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 

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16X 

20X 

24X 

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32X 

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et  dr.  >aut  en  bas,  en  prenant  Ie  nombre 
d'Images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  sulvants 
lllustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

Hppletons' 

XTown  ant)  Country 

Xibrarp 

No.  194 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY 


^ 


THE    MADONNA 
OF    A   DAY 


BY 

L.    DOUGALL 


Cti.»UjL_ 


AUTHOR  OF  THE  MERMAID,  THE  ZEIT-OEIST,   BEGGARS  ALL,  ETC. 


"A  water  pure  and  saltless 
Has  neither  taste  nor  hue ; 
A  beauty  that  is  faultless 

Is  characterless  too. 
Blest  are  the  discontented  ! " 


NEW    YORK 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1895 


.^ 


L 
T7  •' 


v)    •   •-' 


CoPTRionT,  1895, 

Bt  d.  appleton  and  company. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  station  of  tlie  Canadian  Pacific  Railway  in 
the  town  of  Vancouver  is  a  rather  handsome  build- 
ing. At  its  entrance,  on  a  certain  afternoon  in  late 
December,  an  omnibus  from  the  principal  hotel  ar- 
rived with  quite  a  crowd  of  people.  Its  occupants 
were  nearly  all  men — young  men  ;  they  were  sitting 
upon  one  another's  knees^  and  standing  in  the  middle, 
for  they  filled  it  to  overflowing.  They  were  all 
laughing  hilariously,  and  the  person  who  was  making 
them  laugh  was  the  younger  of  the  only  two  women 
in  the  omnibus. 

When  the  horses  stopped,  the  men — some  younger, 
some  older — alighted  without  any  abatement  of  their 
jovial  state.  Then  they  handed  out  the  two  women, 
and  all  the  rugs  and  bags  and  umbrellas  which  be- 
longed to  them.  It  seemed  that  the  women  only 
were  the  travellers,  for  the  men  had  no  luggage. 

The  sky  overhead  was  a  dull  soft  grey;  in  the 


110727 


2  TI'E  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

street  a  layer  of  snow  lay  upon  everything,  but  it  was 
not  deep,  and  the  air  was  soft  ratlier  than  cold.  The 
two  women  stood  together  upon  the  pavement  in 
front  of  the  entrance.  The  older  was  tall,  and  very 
plainly  dressed.  She  was  clever,  she  was  sad,  she 
was  not  given  to  interfering  with  others — all  this  was 
written  on  her  face ;  she  had  reached  that  maturity 
in  which  character  and  expression  are  fixed.  The  | 
younger  woman  was  a  plump  blithe  creature  ;  she  I 
would  have  been  perfectly  fresh  and  delightful  if  it      | 

had  not  been  for  a  certain  subtle  spirit  of  unrest  that      '^i 

.  .  'I 

peeped  out,  as  it  were,  from  behind  her  bright  black      | 

eyes  and  from  the  corners  of  her  red  lips  with  hard-  | 
ening  effect.  She  was  young;  as  yet  nothing  was  I 
imprinted  very  clearly  upon  her  face.  She  was  | 
dressed  more  richly  than  the  other,  but  with  sturdy  | 
good  sense.  She  was  as  alert  and  alive  to  what  was 
going  on  around  her  as  a  chicken  when  its  wings  are 
all  fluffy  with  excitement.  She  looked  upon  herself 
as  a  person  of  great  importance,  and  took  a  vivid  in- 
terest in  every  one  about  her. 

For  the  moment  there  happened  to  be  no  porter 
to  unlade  the  trunks  from  the  top  of  the  omnibus. 

"Now,"  cried  the  young  woman,  "I'll  bet  a 
dollar  to  each,  that  you  men,  with  all  your  miracu- 
lous vows  of  everlasting  friendship,  won't  haul  down 
the  boxes  and  carry  them  in  on  your  backs."  She 
raised  her  voice  to  a  delighted  scream.     "  On  your 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


it  it  was 
d.  The 
neiit  ill 
,nd  very 
sad,  she 
this  was 
naturity 
1.  The 
re  ;  she 
ful  if  it 
rest  that 
lit  black 
th  Hard- 
ing was 
Jhe  was 

sturdy 
hat  was 
ngs  are 

herself 
ivid  in- 

porter 
bus. 

bet  a 
niracu- 
1  down 
"  She 
n  your 


*acl's,  my  dear  boys;    I   shan't  lose  my  dollars  on 
'alse  pretences." 

She  escaped  vulgarity.  There  was  just  enough  of 
what  was  well  bred  in  accent  and  aspect  to  make  her 
loudness  an  interesting  eccentricity  rather  than  a 
loathsome  commonplace. 

She  gave  way  to  immoderate  and  delighted  laugh- 
ter as  the  group  of  men  charged  upon  the  omnibus, 
and  with  unaccustomed  awkwardness  hauled  and 
pulled  at  the  boxes  strapped  upon  it.  "  We  shall  be 
too  late,"  said  the  older  woman  to  the  younger,  speak- 
ing in  a  dry  dissatisfied  way. 

"All  right,  my  pet,"  was  the  answer;  "Til  pay 
your  hotel  bill  for  the  extra  day."  Then  in  exclama- 
tion, "  Hang  me  if  those  fellows  don't  knock  off  one 
or  two  of  their  heads!  Oh,  what  heavenly  fun  it 
would  be  to  have  to  take  one  or  two  of  them  back  to 
the  hotel  in  an  ambulance,  and  have  to  stop  and  nurse 
them ! " 

"  Speak  for  yourself,"  said  the  other  one,  with  an 
air  aloof  and  placid. 

By  this  time  such  servants  of  the  station  as  should 
have  done  the  work  were  standing  aside,  grinning 
widely.  The  men  who  had  taken  down  the  boxes 
were  wrestling,  each  to  obtain  a  box  or  a  part  of  a 
box  on  his  own  shoulders.  The  fact  that  it  was  in 
some  cases  difficult  for  two  men  to  get  under  one  box 
made  some  moments'  delay. 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


The  plump  girl  clapped  her  Lands,  and  gave  a 
little  dance  of  hilarity. 

"  Run,  my  dear  fellows,  run !  or  we  shall  lose 
the  train  as  sure  as  death."  She  g>  ve  little  shrieks 
of  delighted  laughter  between  her  sentences.  "  And 
there's  that  infernal  checking  business  to  be  gone 
through." 

The  men  in  rollicking  procession  ran  into  the 
station,  the  girl  beside  them  breathless  with  glib 
comments,  small  bits  of  mild  profanity,  and  tlic 
very  freshest  gayest  laughter  imaginable.  Her  com- 
panion followed,  swift  and  sedate. 

The  train,  about  to  start,  shut  in  the  long  plat- 
form at  one  side.  Its  engine  and  carriages  looked 
very  large  to  eyes  unaccustomed  to  American  travel. 

"  Have  mercy  on  us  !  "  cried  the  girl.  "  What  a 
huge  way  of  spinning  across  the  continent ! " 

The  trunks  having  been  checked,  were  carried  on 
the  backs  of  the  hilarious  cavaliers  to  the  luggago 
car.  Every  one  upon  the  platform  or  at  the  win- 
dows of  the  train  was  interested  in  the  performance. 
The  lively  little  lady  who  had  instigated  it  stood  at 
the  steps  of  the  drawing-room  car  into  which  she 
was  about  to  enter,  and  clapped  her  hands,  laughed 
and  swore  that  it  was  the  most  amusing  sight  which 
she  had  ever  witnessed.  It  was  a  piece  of  rather 
strong  language  she  used  this  time;  it  came  out 
evidently  just  to   shock    and    interest    two  of  the 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


iicn  of  lier  party  who  had  by  this  time  gained  her 

iide. 

The  ladies  were  helped  to  ascend  into  the  car,  all 
I  their  friends  accompanying  them  through  its  first 
narrow  passage-way  into  its  main  portion.  Most  of 
the  men  were  still  boisterous;  one  or  two  had  as- 
jsumed  a  pensive  expression  by  this  time.  This  ex- 
pression was  the  most  pronounced  in  the  case  of  a 
slight  fellow  with  a  light  moustache,  who  was  called 
by  the  ladies,  "  Charlie." 

The  girl  patted  Charlie  upon  the  back. 

"Cheer  up,  dear  old  boy,"  she  cried.  "It's 
enormoutjly  pretty  to  see  you  so  down  in  the  mouth, 
you  know,  but  it's  no  go.  Let  us  meet,  part, 
and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die! — that,  I  think, 
comes  out  of  the  Yedas  or  some  other  ancient  lit- 
I  erature." 

She  was  the  central  figure  of  the  group ;  the 
older  woman  counted  for  very  little,  for  though  both 
in  feature  and  figure  she  was  much  the  handsomer, 
she  was  not  happy,  and  the  younger  was  radiantly 
happy.  Happiness  by  its  infection  always  attracts. 
Moreover,  the  younger  was  rich ;  her  purse  was  full, 
a  large  diamond  sparkled  on  her  hand. 

She  had  already  taken  out  her  Durse  with  a 
demonstration  of  business.  "  I  hope  i  have  enough 
of  these  vile  bits  of  green  paper  to  pay  you  in  single 
dollars,"  she  cried. 


6 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


The  first  man  to  whom  she  presented  a  bank-note 
put  his  hands  behind  his  back.  Her  whole  being  was 
swiftly  transformed  into  a  very  personification  of 
petty  indignation. 

"  What  is  this  ?  What  does  it  mean  ?  Is  it  an 
insult?"  Then  she  demanded  of  the  others  with 
flashing  eyes,  "  What  does  he  mean  ?  Does  he  take 
me  for  a  *  young  lady '  ?  Does  he  imagine  that, 
when  I  lose  a  bet,  I  would  fail  to  hand  over  the  coin 
like  any  other  man  f  " 

Iler  impetuousness  was  such  that  each  man  re- 
ceived his  dollar.  One  of  them,  as  spokesman  for 
the  rest,  began  to  protest  that  they  would  each  pur- 
chase a  charm  for  their  watch-chains,  but  she  scorn- 
fully told  him  not  to  be  a  "  blethering  idiot." 

She  was  evidently  a  new  variety  of  woman  to 
most  of  these  men.  Hasty  as  the  leavetaking  was, 
they  watched  her  up  to  the  last  moment  with  eyes 
greedy  to  drink  in  every  one  of  her  unexpected 
glances  and  words. 

"  Poor  Charlie  !  "  she  cried,  "  but  he's  my  cousin, 
you  know,  and  kin  is  kin  all  the  world  over.  Come 
now,  you  must  all  go  out,  and  I'll  give  him  a  cousinly 
kiss  behind  the  door." 

The  small  company  of  men  left  the  train  after  it 

*    began  to  move ;  they  jumped  from  it  with  the  same 

boisterous  hilarity,  with   the   exception   of   Charlie, 

who,  after  having  been  patronizingly  kissed,  reached 


m 
m 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY.  7 

the  platform  looking  much  depressed.      The  lively 

prl,  who  had  driven  them  along  the  small  corridor 

,s  if  they  had  been  a  flock  of  sheep,  stood  upon  the 

[rear  platform   of    the    car   waving   her   hands   and 

[shouting  and  laughing  as  long  as  communication  was 

possible. 


•€ 


m 


CHAPTER  11. 


The  evening  descended  upon  the  train  as  it 
passed  tlirough  plain  and  canyon  on  its  way  eastward, 
towards  the  great  mountains.  The  land,  the  rocks, 
the  broad  placid  surface  of  the  valleys,  were  white 
with  snow ;  only  the  tremulous  lakes  were  grey ;  tLe 
tumultuous  rivers  still  ran  with  dark  grey  stream,  and 
the  firs  made  dark  the  hillsides  which  they  clothed. 
Night  fell ;  snow  blew  against  the  windows  of  the 
cars;  inside  the  palace  sleeping-car  the  gorgeous 
lamps,  inlaid  woodwork,  mirrors  and  bright  curtains, 
were  cheerful  enough. 

At  one  end  of  this  car  the  two  young  women  wlio 
had  entered  it  at  Vancouver  were  in  talk  with  a  fel- 
low-traveller. The  man  was  a  missionary,  but  being 
a  real  person  and  not  a  play-actor,  there  was  nothing 
very  typical  about  him,  nothing  in  his  dress  and  man- 
ner that  on  the  stage  would  have  been  recognized  as 
denoting  the  species  "missionary."  He  was  a  tall 
man,  grey-haired,  with  a  handsome  clear-cut  face  ;  lie 
looked  as  if  he  had  his  fair  share  of  common-sense ; 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


9 


lin  as  it 
eastward, 
he  rocks, 
3re  white 
^rey;  the 
^eam,  and 
r  clothed. 
^rs  of  the 


unen  who 
ith  a  fel- 
but  being 
8  nothing 
and  man- 
)gnized  as 
vas  a  tall 
face ;  he 
ion-sense ; 


lis  dress  was  not  more  remarkable  than  is  usually  the 
iase  when  travellers  return  to  Western  civilization 
ifter  a  long  sojourn  in  the  East. 

The  missionary  bent  forward,  his  hands  upon  his 
:nees,  a  good-natured  look  of  penetrating  shrewdness 
ipon  his  face.  "  Now  I  know,"  he  said,  "  what  you 
^oung  ladies  are  doing.  You  have  said  to  one  an- 
)ther,  '  There  is  an  old  fogey  of  a  missionary ;  we 
^ill  make  up  all  sorts  of  stories,  and  amuse  ourselves 
v)y  shocking  him.' " 

The  elder  leaned  back  in  her  corner  with  a  languid 
smile.  "  We  are  extremely  sorry  if  you  are  shocked," 
ihe  said  ;  "  it  is  the  last  thing  that  we  desired."  She 
looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  darkness  flecked 
'ith  white. 

The  other  made  her  disclaimer  in  the  freshest, 

lost  good-natured  fashion  in  the  world.     "  You  are 

jntirely  mistaken ;  we  were  saying  that  we  thought 

that  you  were  a  rather  jolly  fellow,  and  we  think  so 

^et.    We  haven't  told  you  anything  but  what  was 

[perfectly  Biblical  in   the  way  of  truth — or  rather, 

luch  more  truthful  than  what  is  Biblical,  because  we 

^ere  dealing  with  facts ;  we've  been  '  speaking  the 

Itrnth  in  love,'   I  do  assure  you.     We  are  women 

[journalists.     We  are  going  round   the  world.     You 

ire  very  much  behind  the  times  if  you  think  English 

^irls  over  twenty-one  need  any  one  to  take  care  of 

them.     Why,  you  know,  we  have  been  in  all  sorts  of 


10 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


# 


out-of-tlie  way  places.  Of  course  it  was  often  danger- 
ous, but  that  made  something  to  write  to  the  papers 
about.  I  bought  an  enormously  precious  stone  in  the 
East.  I  carry  it  with  me.  1  expect  to  be  murdered 
for  it  before  I  get  home — that  will  be  the  denoue- 
mentP     Her  eyes  sparkled  with  vivacity. 

"  And  in  London,"  said  the  missionary,  "  I  gather 
that  you  live  in  *  chambers '  all  alone,  and  go  about  at 
night  quite  freely."  There  was  a  genial  interest  in 
his  tone. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes ;  why  should  I  not  ?  The  London 
police  are  quite  efficient.  I  couldn't  be  murdered  or 
anything.  My  friend  here  runs  about  Fleet  Street 
at  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  getting  off 
telegrams  to  the  provincial  newspapers.  I  don't  do 
that  just  because  I  don't  happen  to  be  in  that  line  of 
work." 

"  Or  rather,  because  you  are  too  rich  to  need  to 
do  iL"     The  elder  woman  made  this  dry  comment. 

"  There  is  nothing  that  would  amuse  me  more  than 
to  do  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Therein  you  show  a  more  debased  taste  than  I, 
for  I  would  not  do  it  if  it  were  not  my  daily  bread." 

"We  used  to  think  that  our  American  women 
were  more  independent  than  the  English,"  said  the 
missionary.  He  continued  to  look  at  the  young  girl 
much  as  one  would  look  at  a  pretty  and  interesting 
child. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


11 


.  danger- 
e  papers 
le  in  the 
lurdered 
denoue- 

I  gather 

about  at 

terest  in 

I  London 
dered  or 
3t  Street 
itting  oil 
don't  do 
it  line  of 

need  to 
ment. 
lore  than 

e  than  I, 
Y  bread." 
I  women 
said  the 
3ung  girl 
iteresting 


"  Oh  dear,  no ;  I  consider  yonr  American  women 

uite  behind  the  age.     Why,  now,  for  instance,  just 

esterday  at  Vancouver  I  gave  a  little  dinner  in  the 

lotel.     Well,  I  had  to  do  it  in  common  honesty.     I 

lappened  to  have  a  cousin  in  Vancouver,  and  he  had 

wrought  some  of  his  friends  to  call.     I  had  been  there 

I  a  week ;  they  had  treated  me  ;  I  had,  of  course,  to  do 
something  in  return  ;  but  some  Americans  in  the  hotel 
were  quite  shocked.  The  hotel  people  were  wonder- 
fully decent  about  the  dinner,  and  let  me  have  it  un- 
commonly cheap  too.  Waiters  and  hotel  clerks  are 
always  tremendously  nice  to  me.  I  don't  know  why 
it  is,  but  I  always  find  it  that  way.  I  showed  the  bill 
to  one  of  the  men,  a  very  nice  fellow  that  I  had  got 
Ito  know  quite  well,  and  he  said  a  man  would  never 

Jhave  got  it  so  cheap." 

St 

I       "AYhat  did  you  have  for  dinner?"  asked  the  mis- 

sionary,  "  and  what  was  the  price  ? " 

j^       She  was  not  talking  for  effect ;  she  was  quite  car- 

|ried  away  with  the  interest  of  what  she  was  relating. 

It  is  usually  the  thing  we  like  to  talk  about  that  we 

can  talk  about  best;  she  succeeded  in  absorbing  his 

attention. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.     There  were  eight  of  us — 

my  friend  here,  my  cousin  Charlie,  and  five  other 

men.     I  talked  to  them  tremendously  at  the  hotel  be- 

orehand,  so  that  they  really  gave  us  everything  very 

ood — that  is  to  say,  good  for  Yancouvor.     We  had 


12 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


ten  courses.  Well,  I  didn't  have  champagne.  Cham- 
pagne is  tremendously  dear,  you  know,  here,  and  not 
very  good ;  but  1  had  sherry  and  a  very  good  Bur- 
gundy. Of  course  I  didn't  get  cigarettes  from  the 
hotel ;  I  always  carry  my  own.  But  now,  what  do 
you  think  the  bill,  including  the  wine,  came  to  ? " 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  said  the  missionary,  quite  truly. 

'*  Only  four  pounds  !  I  was  quite  taken  aback 
when  I  saw  it ;  but  of  course  I  paid  it,  and  didn't  ask 
any  questions.  I  just  smiled  upon  the  clerk  who  took 
the  money  ;  but,  as  I  say,  I  showed  it  to  a  friend  after- 
ward, and  we  chuckled  over  it  together.  I  have  often 
noticed  that  they  favour  me  at  hotels.  I  always  make 
a  point  of  talking  in  a  friendly  way  to  the  clerks  and 
the  waiters ;  they  like  it,  and  it  doesn't  do  me  any 
harm." 

"  I^ow  that  I  think  of  it,"  the  missionary  spoke 
meditatively,  "  I  have  seen  your  name  in  the  papers. 
I  have  read  a  description  of  you." 

She  brightened  visibly  ;  an  obvious  thrill  of  pleas- 
ure went  through  her  frame.  "  Oh,  I  dare  say ;  I 
write  a  good  deal,  you  know,  in  various  journals,  and 
several  of  my  friends  who  do  interviewing  have 
threatened  to  publish  a  sketch  of  me.  What  was  the 
name  of  the  paper  ?  When  one  is  flying  round  the 
world  one  can't  keep  up  to  date  with  these  things." 

"  I  do  not  know  that  your  friends  have  been  so 
personal  as  you  suppose.     I  merely  meant  that  even 


t 

-;7f 

m' 

m 

m^\ 

lit 

1' 

W' 

9  is 

Jan 

W^ 

9r 

Ith 

^ri( 

■br 

Mio 

mil 

■to 

■Ol 

w 

>aB 

Iwc 

■I  ( 

1 

THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


18 


[at  a  remote  mission  station  I  have  read  paragraphs 
Iconcerning  the  '  New  Woman.'  " 

She  was  disappointed,  and  she  was  still  so  jonng 
and  full  of  life  that  she  had  not  the  heart  to  coi^ceal 
it,  hut  in  a  moment  she  took  up  the  new  theme  with 
all  her  former  zest. 

"  And  heing  in  a  remote  mission  station,  I  suppose 
you  helicved  the  idiotic  and  transcendent  ruhhish  that 
is  written  about  her.  Xow,  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is, 
land  you  may  believe  me.  I  have  been  three  years  at 
GiriOii,  and  I've  lived  in  town  for  a  year  or  two,  and 
Irve  travelled  round  the  world,  and  I  can  assure  you 
ithat  the  '  Xew  Woman  '  is  a  pure  myth.  She  is  a 
jridiculoiis  and  horrid  phantasm,  evolved  out  of  the 
brains  of  a  few  authors  who  did  not  know  what  else 
to  interest  the  public  with,  and  believed  in  only  by  the 
simple  and  credulous,  who  unfortunately,  however,  go 
to  make  up  the  greater  portion  of  every  community. 
Oh,  she's  been  a  great  scare,  I  admit,  but  there's  ab- 
solutely nothing  in  it." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  missionary.  "I 
[thoudit  that  I  had  classified  vou." 

"  Well,  as  you've  come  from  the  Pacific  Ocean  I 
Iwon't  be  offended.  I  am  not  thin-skinned  any  way  ; 
[I  can  always  get  on  with  a  man  who  says  what  he 
ithinks.     I  adore  plain  downright  dealing." 

"  What  are  the  mythical  attributes  ? "  he  asked. 

"  The  characteristics  of  the  myth  ?     Well,  in  the 
2 


14 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


4 


first  place,  she  has  no  prinel})lc.  Now  why,  iii  tho 
name  of  heaven,  I  ask  you,  should  vonian  at  the  end 
of  the  nineteenth  century  be  supposed  to  have  less 
principle  than  she  had  in  all  the  other  centuries? 
She  may  live  in  a  different  way  ;  she  may  be  happy 
and  live  in  a  fiat,  and  have  a  latchkey,  instead  of  sit- 
ting snarling  over  the  fire  at  her  brother's  wife  who 
doesn't  waui:  her.  She  may  earn  her  own  living  in- 
stead of  insisting  that  some  man  should  pay  her  bills. 
She  may  make  good,  downright  honest  friendships 
with  men  instead  of  merely  flirting  with  them  in  a 
ballroom ;  and  if  she  doesn't  believe  in  religion  she 
can  stay  at  home  from  church  instead  of  continuing 
to  keep  up  a  respectable  sham.  Do  these  things 
necessarily  take  away  her  principle  ?  I  tell  you,  the 
men  and  women  that  go  about  saying  that  a  woman 
does  not  believe  in  anything  because  she  does  not  be- 
lieve in  shamming,  prove  themselves  to  be  far  more 
unprincipled  than  the  modern  women  I  have  met." 

She  was  very  young;  she  had  her  enthusiasms, 
and  this  was  evidently  one  of  them.  She  looked  at 
the  missionary  with  bright  red  cheeks,  but  she  was 
not  abusing  him  ;  she  was  rather  appealing  to  him. 

"  All  that  may  be  quite  true,"  said  the  missionary 
— "  you  have,  as  you  say,  a  very  fair  right  to  judge ; 
but  why  do  you  proclaim  your  opinion  to  me  in  the 
name  of  heaven  ?     Why  heaven  ?  " 

"  Did  I  say  in    the  name   of  heaven  ? "      She 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


16 


ill  tile 
tlie  end 
ave  less 
ituries  ? 
3  happy 
d  of  sit- 
ife  who 
virig  iii- 
ler  bills, 
iiidships 
jm  in  a 
i^ion  she   | 
[itinuing 
J   things 
you,  the  I 
L  woman 
3  not  be- 
Far  more 
met." 
lusiasms, 
ooked  at 
she  was 
)  him. 
issionary 
0  judge ; 
ae  in  the 


I  )> 


She 


langhe;].  "  Well,  then  in  the  name  of  the  sky — it  is 
[all  one  to  nie — in  the  name  of  the  blue  distance,  in 
the  name  of  the  ether,  why  ohould  I  be  supposed  to 
be  unprincipled  because  I  drink  plenty  of  wine  and 
smoke  cigarettes?  If  you  saw  a  man  taking  wine 
and  smoking  just  as  I  do,  would  you  argue  that  he 
would  tell  lies,  and  break  vows,  and  be  indifferent  as 
to  his  personal  dignity  and  moral  worth  ?  I  suppose 
that  if  you  are  a  rabid  teetotaler  and  an  anti-tobacco- 
nist you  do  argue  that  way,  but  the  facts  would  not 
[bear  you  out." 

"  I  am  not  a  tobacconist  of  any  sort,"  said  the 
Imissionarv,  smilin<j. 

She  laughed  the  blithest  happiest  laugh. 

"Another  characteristic  of  the  myth,"  she  said, 
I"  is  that  she  has  no  heart ;  she  does  not  care  for  the 
young  or  the  aged.  Xow,  do  you  suppose  that  evolu- 
tion has  suddenly  come  to  a  standstill,  and  that  a  new 
thing  has  been  created  ?  Heretofore  women  have 
always  been  known  to  be  tender-hearted ;  men  are 
supposed  to  have  a  soft  corner  in  their  hearts  also  : 
but  now  there  is  suddenly  a  break  in  all  the  laws  of- 
heredity,  and  a  race  of  girls  has  sprung  up  that  pos- 
sesses none  of  the  softer  sentiments.  Because  they 
live  in  flats  and  have  latchkeys,  or  do  something  else 
typical,  wdiatever  it  may  be,  they  are  supposed  to 
kick  aside  anything  that  is  w^eak  or  ailing  without 
the  slightest  compunction.     What  I  want  to  know  is, 


16 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Ill 


ll! 


wlicre  this  race  of  women  lias  come  from.     It  is  a 
very  bad  conii)limeiit  to  tl)0  very  mothers  who  are 
weeping  over  the  revolt  of  their  daughters  to  sup- 
pose that  their  children  have  got  made  up  in  soniu    'j 
way  without  any  heart." 

The  missionary  with  strong  sagacious  face  was 
still  observing  her  benignly. 

"  I  see " — he  joined  the  points  of  his  fingers  to- 
gether as'he  spoke — "you  are  not  unprincipled,  and 
you  are  not  unfeeling." 

"You  have  only  my  word  for  it,"  she  laughed. 

"  I  am  old  enough,"  said  the  missionary,  "  to  know 
whom  to  believe.  I  believe  you.  I  regret  that  in  1 
using  the  term  I  apj^lied  to  you  I  should  have  ap-  1 
peared  to  make  an  accusation " 

"  Oh !  not  at  all ;  don't  apologize.  I  always  gird 
up  my  loins  and  experience  a  holy  joy  when  I  hear 
the  ^  New  Woman '  mentioned,  for  I  love  to  defend 
my  sex." 

lie  made  a  courteous  inclination  of  the  head. 

"  What  sort  of  joy  ?  " 

"  Holy  joy,"  she  repeated  boisterously. 

"  Your  good  principle  and  your  good  feeling  we 
have  admitted" — he  was  speaking  in  a  pleasant  argu- 
mentative way — "  but  why  characterize  your  senti- 
ments as  holy  ? " 

"Well,  I  tliink  I  had  been  using  a  Bible  quota- 
tion"— she   laughed — "and  of  course  in  your  esti- 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


17 


Illation  ftiiytliiiig  wliatevcr  connected  with  tlic  Bible 
makes  tlie  word  appropriate." 

'•  Xot  in  tlie  least,"  lie  replied  with  unruffled 
courtesy  ;  ''  for  exain])le,  a  man  who  takes  his  oath 
upon  the  Bi])le  and  perjures  himself  does  not  do  a 
holy  thing." 

She  laughed  immensely  at  the  retort,  and  liked 
him  better  for  it. 

She  ])rotested,  "  If  you  admit  that  I  am  affection- 
ate and  good-principled,  I  don't  mind  in  the  least 
what  else  you  accuse  me  of.     But  now  I  want  to  get 
clearly  into  your  mind  the  point  that  I  make ;  I  al- 
ways instruct  everybody  on  the  subject.     One  hears 
.about  this  'new  woman,'  and  the  'girl  of  the  period,' 
[and  the  ''fn  de  siecle  -svoman ; '  now  I  wish  you  to 
I  bear  witness  that  I  think  I  am  as  fair  a  specimen  of 
[the  class  abused  as  you  can  have.     I  am  'emanci- 
pated,'  I   am   'advanced,'   in   fact  I   am    the   'new 
w'oman,'  so  far  as  she  is  not  a  myth.     Of  course 
there  is  no  class  of  people,  either  men  or  women,  that 
has  not  its  black  sheep,  and  its  saints,  too,  for  that 
matter.     I  don't  claim  to  be  either  one  or  the  other;* 
[I  am  simply  an   average   specimen  of   the   class   of 
women  that  are   often  called  'fast.'     Well,  now,  I 
maintain  that  I  am  just  as  sound  in  heart  and  morals 
as  if  I  spent  my  life  moping  by  a  sitting-room  fire.     I 
can  prove  it  to  you,  too." 

She  finished  with  a  little  nod  of  her  head,  and 


% 


18 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


III! 


11:^: 


paused  a  moinont.  Tlicro  was  a  certain  self-conscious 
twitching  about  tlie  muscles  of  her  youthful  moutli 
which  suggested  that  something  interesting  concern- 
infj  herself  was  to  be  revealed.  He  continued  to 
listen  with  the  same  benign  look  of  keen  observation. 
"  I  don't  mind  telling  you — in  fact  Fvo  told  peo- 
ple before ;  I  don't  see  why  I  should  mind.  Several 
years  ago  I  fell  very  much  in  love  myself.  A  very 
nice  fellow  used  to  come  and  see  me  sometimes ;  we 
neither  of  us  intended  it,  and  before  we  either  of  us 
knew  what  was  up,  we  were  both  in  love.  It  wasn't  | 
our  fault,  but  there  we  were,  you  see.  It  was  Nature 
that  made  the  world,  not  we,  and,  as  I  understand  it, 
you  believe  that  the  Almighty  is  at  the  back  of  Na- 
ture. Of  course  I  don't  know  anything  about  that ; 
Kature  is  enough  for  me :  but,  as  I  say,  it  wasn't  our  | 
fault.  Well,  he  was  engaged  to  another  girl  before 
he  ever  saw  me.  What  did  we  do  ?  Did  we  act  in 
an  unprincipled  manner?  AYe  agreed  that  she  was 
weak  and  poor,  and  needed  protection,  and  that  ho  1 
would  be  a  rascal  if  he  did  not  i^o  on  with  the  mar-  1 
riage.  Well,  now,  I  live  in  the  same  place  as  that  | 
man ;  I  know  quite  well  that  his  marriage  to  her  has 
not  altered  the  fact  that  he  preferred  me;  but  I  never 
have  any  dealings  with  him  except  through  his  wife. 
I  would  not  do  such  a  sliabby  thing,  and  at  the  same 
time  pretend  to  be  a  friend  to  her ;  but  I  know  lots 
of  women  who  would  do  it  who  look  upon  me  as 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


19 


(Miite  an  outcast  from  society.  Now,  I  have  an  iin- 
mense  amount  of  affection  lor  that  man.  I'd  give  all 
tliat  I  possess  at  any  time  to  help  him  out  of  a  difti- 
culty;  hut  I  should  not  care  for  him  at  all — I  should 
ahsuhitely  despise  him,  if  he  came  philandering  after 
nic  when  his  poor  little  affectionate  wife  is  slaving  all 
(lay  over  his  dinner  and  his  bahies." 

It  is  often  ditKcult  to  estimate  the  pitch  of  one's 
own  voice  in  the  rattle  of  a  train.  She  was  per- 
hiips  not  to  be  blamed  if,  in  the  interest  of  her 
theme,  her  voice  was  a  little  louder  than  was  neces- 
sary ;  but  the  missionary  looked  round  apprehen- 
sively to  see  if  any  of  their  fellow-travellers  could 
have  overheard. 

"  Now,"  she  cried,  "  what  do  you  thhik  of  tha«  ? 
Can  you  say  that  my  conduct  in  the  matter  has  not 
been  perfectly  '  womanly '  ? " 

"  You  certainly  acted  on  principle "     Instead 

of  finishing,  he  obviously  hesitated,  then  added,  "  Al- 
though you  adore  candour — I  think  that  is  all  that 
I  had  better  say." 

"What  else  have  you  to  say?"  she  asked  with 
great  curiosity. 

He  looked  down  at  the  points  of  his  fingers, 
which,  elbows  on  his  knees,  he  was  still  carefully 
matching  together. 

"  My  idea  of  what  is  perfectly  womanly  is  perhaps 
derived  from  a  character  who  did  not  discuss  the 


'^ 


Ill 


20 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


!l:i:' 


deep  tilings  of  lier  life,  but  pondered  tLem  in  her 
lieart."  Then  he  looked  up.  "  I  am  preaching  tu 
you,  you  sec.     I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  sermon." 

"  Oh,  certainly  " — with  good  nature.  "  I  never 
go  to  hear  sermons,  so  I  should  be  thankful  when 
they  are  given  me  without  that  effort." 

"  I  thought  perha2)s  your  feelings  would  be  hurt," 
lie  said. 

She  was  quick  enough  to  see  that  look  and  tone 
were  meant  to  suggest  that  had  she  appreciated  his 
meaning  she  would  have  felt  oifence.  She  hid  this 
under  an  air  of  amused  good  nature. 

"  I  have  a  holy  horror  of  touchiness,"  she  per- 
sisted. 

lie  rose  to  say  good  night. 

"  An  old  man  who  has  conceived  a  hearty  respect 
for  you  would  feel  it  an  honour  to  shake  hands,"  he 
said. 

"  Honest  Injun  ?  or  is  it  sarcasm  ?  " 

In  a  moment  his  benign  aspect  answered  for  Itself. 
She  entered  into  the  hand-shaking  heartily. 

"  And  yet,"  he  said,  "  I  think  you  had  better  not 
use  the  word  '  holy '  to  describe  your  own  emotions." 

"  Oh,  really  !  upon  my  word  !     Why  not  ? " 

"  It  betrays  a  lack  of  literary  perception.  It  is 
neither  amusing  nor  appropriate." 


in  her 
bing  to 
aon." 
[  never 
il  when 


Q  Imrt;' 

lid  tone 
ited  Lis 
hid  this 

she  per- 


T  respect 
nds,"  he 


itself. 


or  I 


3tter  not 
lotions." 

n.     It  is 


CHAPTER  III. 

"  I  don't  see  why  you  should  trouble  yourself  to 
[chatter  to  people  who  despise  you,  Polly,"  said  the 
I  discontented  journalist. 

"  Because  I  don't  affect,  like  you,  to  be  Shelley's 
[Moon,  and  find  no  object  in  heaven  or  earth  worthy 
my  attention.  Pessimism  and  despair  may  suit  your 
[style  of  beauty ;  it  would  look  idiotic  upon  me." 

"  It  is  such  a  ghastly  season  of  the  year  to  be  trav- 
I  oiling.  I  think  the  Christmas  holiday  is  the  most 
I  odious  of  seasons  in  all  parts  of  the  world." 

"  I  would  rather  spend  Christmas  Day  in  ten  rail- 
way trains  than  at  home,  where  one  is  expected  to  go 
to  church,  and  visit  the  poor,  and  be  bored." 

"If  it  continues  to  snow  in  the  mountains  we 
may  have  to  spend  J^ew  Year's  Day  as  well  in  this 
train,  before  we  get  to  Montreal." 

The  other  looked  out  of  the  window. 

"  It  would  be  beastly  cold  to  be  turned  out  upon 
the  snow  somewhere  among  the  Eockies,"  she  said. 
"If  it  came  to  that  it  would  remind  me  of  a  time 


ill.  '.  > 

■lii^ii 


I'^i 


"  i! 


ill  ^1 
i! 


il!' 


22 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


once  when  I  was  about  fourteen  and  walked  out  of 
the  house  in  winter  in  my  sleep.  How  my  father 
did  row  me  about  it  the  next  day,  to  be  sure !  The 
old  fellow  seemed  to  think  that  I  was  responsible  for 
my  actions." 

"  How  far  did  you  go  ? " — with  languid  interest. 

"  Oh !  not  farther  than  halfw^ay  down  our  gar- 
den, happily.  But  I  used  frequently  to  find  myself 
wandering  about  the  passages,  I  was  quite  a  crack 
somnambulist." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  had  ever  done  any- 
thing so  interesting.  Have  you  outgrown  the 
talent  ? " 

"  Rather ! " — here  a  sudden  thrilling  laugh  of 
great  amusement — "  or  I  should  not  have  travelled 
round  the  world  so  easily.  Hang  it !  what  mag- 
nificent messes  one  could  get  one's  self  into  that 
way." 

They  began  now  the  process  of  what  might  be 
called  undressing  for  the  night,  but  what  was  in 
reality  exchanging  one  set  of  outside  wraps  for 
another.  When  they  had  turned  out  of  their  own 
compartment  to  allow  the  beds  to  be  made,  the  sad- 
eyed  woman  began  unrolling  a  grey  dressing-jacket. 
Little  Miss  Polly  produced  a  bundle  of  blue  silk, 
and  began  displaying  it  with  a  pride  and  satisfaction 
which  rode  roughshod  over  the  other's  indifference. 
She  was  a  very  natural  girl,  chubby,  dimpled,  and 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


23 


out  of  I 
father 
s!    The 
dble  for 

terest. 
)ur  gar- 
l  myself 
a  crack 

>ne  any- 
wn    the 

augh  of 
travelled 
lat  mag- 
nto  that 

night  be  i 

was  in 
raps  for 
leir  own 
,  the  sad- 
ig- jacket. 
3lue  silk, 
tisfaction 
ifference. 
pled,  and 


fund  of  dress.  Her  name  happened  to  be  Mary 
'loward. 

"  Look  liere,  this  is  that  lovely  thing  I  bought 
In  Persia.  I  have  dedicated  it  to  night  travelling ; 
t  will  keep  the  dust  out  of  one's  hair  and  clothes, 
•ou  know,  without  giving  one  a  stuffy  feeling.  Isn't 
It  a  magnificent  blue  1 "' 

"  It  is  just  yards  and  yards  of  stuff.  There  is 
10  shape  about  it ;  how  do  you  keep  it  on  ? " 

"  I  am  the  shape  ;  this  is  the  drapery.  I  learned 
[rom  the  natives  how  to  j)ut  it  on.  This  is  the  for- 
lula  :  once  over  the  head,  twice  round  the  neck,  and 
^hen  the  long  end  loosely  over  your  head  and  shoul- 
lers  like  a  shawl.     So  !  " 

"  Picturesque  !  "  —  critically  —  "  but  it's  not  in 
character ;  you  look  something  like  a  coloured  image 
tn  a  church." 

Mary  Howard  had  a  certain  daintiness  about  her 
wiiich  was  distinctly  womanly.  When  she  had 
wrapped  herself  in  the  blue  silk  veil,  she  took  off 
lier  boots  and  put  on  warm  woollen  slippers  of  the 
?ame  liue.  This,  of  course,  took  place  behind  the 
heavv  curtains  that  shut  her  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
^ar.  She  stretched  out  her  winsey  skirts  very  straight 
md  smooth  as  she  lay  upon  the  couch ;  then  she 
Idrew  up  the  blanket,  leaned  back  upon  the  pillows, 
laiid  went  to  sleep. 

The  train  jolted  on ;  every  one  else  in  the  car 


24 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


s 


i  !:' 


!  I  III  I 


liii" 


went  to  sleep,  too,  even  tlie  commercial  travellers 
who  sat  up  long  in  the  smoking  compartment  so 
that  the  black  porter  was  very  sleepy  indeed  before 
lie  could  settle  himself  for  the  night.  The  black 
porter  sat  on  a  stool  in  the  little  passage  that  led  to 
the  ladies'  dressing-room  ;  he  leaned  his  head  against 
the  wall  and  slept  as  soundly  as  in  a  bed,  because  he 
was  accustomed  to  it ;  the  jolting  of  the  car  was  to  | 
him  a  lullaby. 

The  train  went  in  and  out  of  the  snowsheds  in 
the  Eagle  Pass  by  which  it  was  crossing  the  Gold 
Eange.  The  sleeping  travellers  knew  nothing  of 
sheds  and  mountains,  lakes  and  rivers.  Long  after 
midnight  the  train  came  to  a  place  where  the  snow 
was  so  deep  on  certain  curves  that  they  had  to  go 
slowly.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  slackening  of  speed 
which  disturbed  one  sleeper  in  the  palace  car. 

Mary  Howard  sat  up  in  her  berth,  and  with 
groping  uncertain  hands  pushed  down  her  blanket. 
She  separated  her  curtains,  slipped  out,  and  stood  | 
alone  in  the  narrow  passage  between  tlie  long  rows 
of  curtained  berths.  The  eye  of  the  shaded  night- 
lamp  looked  down  upon  a  litt1<^  blue-draped  figure 
shod  in  noiseless  wool.  Sleep  htid  a  softening  effect 
on  a  face  that,  at  its  happiest,  when  awake,  was  gay 
rather  than  satisfied.  She  stood  a  moment  at  the 
entrance  of  the  Httle  passage  in  which  the  porter 
slept;  she  did  not  see  him  though  her  pretty  eyes 


THE  MADONXA  OF  A  DAY. 


25 


.vellers 
lent  so 
before 
}  black 
led  to 
against 
ause  lie 
was  to 

lieds  in 
le  Gold 
liing  of 
ig  after 
le  snow 
d  to  go 
f   speed 

id   with 
blanket, 
id  stood 
)ng  rows 
d  niglit- 
d  figure 
mg  effect 
was  gay 
it  at  the 
le  porter 
etty  eyes 


wore  wide  open,  but  no  doubt  sue  perceived  him 
with  the  mysterious  perception  of  the  somnambulist, 
for  she  avoided  brushing  his  knee  with  her  petticoat, 
and  he  slept  on. 

At  the  end  of  the  passage  there  were  two  doors, 
one  opening  into  the  dressing-room  and  one  on  to  the 
rear  platform  of  the  car.  A  walled-in  compartment 
>hnt  out  the  view  of  what  was  passing  here  from  any 
ione  inside  the  car;  no  one  heard  the  heavy  handle  of 
the  outer  door  turn,  no  one  felt  the  breath  of  icy  wind 
that  rushed  in  at  the  transient  opening.  The  girl 
stepped  outside  upon  the  platform,  and  shut  the  door 
Ihehind  her. 

Ko  doubt  in  her  mind  some  dream  was  going  for- 
Iward  ;  perhaps  it  was  a  reminiscence  of  past  somnam- 
Ibnlistic  adventures  which  she  had  that  evening  re- 
called ;  perhaps  it  was  a  vision  of  the  "  men  friends" 
of  Vancouver,  to  whom,  upon  this  very  platform,  she 
liad  bidden  farewell.  Whatever  the  motive  in  the 
sleeping  mind,  she  put  her  hand  upon  the  rail,  slowly 
lescended  the  three  steps  of  the  carriage,  and  then 
stepped  off  into  the  winter  night. 

Tlie  train  was  going  slowly  ;  the  girl  fell  four  or 
five  feet  down  a  low  embankment,  and  landed  upon  a 
)ed  of  snow.  This  was  her  awakening  ;  and  shocked, 
terrified,  unable  to  conceive  what  had  befallen  her,  she 
ay  for  a  minute  gazing  at  the  expanse  of  the  starry 
leavcn,  at  the  shadowy  mountains,  at  the  glimmering 


20 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


i  ill  III 


iiii 
I  111 


!!t!l 


snow  around  her,  at  the  receding  lights  of  tlie  rat- 
tling train.  It  was  the  sight  of  these  lights  moving 
in  the  distance  that  recalled  her  to  reality.  She 
rose  lip  and  shrieked  ;  she  shrieked  wildly,  madly, 
till  the  thunder  of  the  train  had  died  in  the  clear 
cold  air. 

She  sank  back  upon  the  snow,  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hands.  Gradually  it  came  to  her  mind  what  i 
must  have  occurred.  Her  former  sleep-walking  experi-  i 
ences  came  to  her  aid  ;  something  in  the  sensations  she 
was  passing  through  recalled  previcus  sensations,  and 
gave  the  clue  to  what  otherwise  would  have  been  in- 
explicable. Her  first  feeling  of  mad,  panic-stricken  1 
anger  against  those  on  board  the  train  passed  away ;  | 
no  one  was  to  blame,  and  yet  the  fact  remained — the 
awful  fact  of  her  present  situation. 

Again  she  rose  and  looked  about  her ;  there  was 
not  in  the  snow-clad  hills  a  single  light  to  be  seen. 
She  climbed  up  to  the  track.  The  snow  lay  under  the 
starlight  unbroken,  as  far  as  she  could  see,  except  for 
the  two  dark  lines  of  rails.  It  was  too  dark  to  see 
whither  the  curving  road  led  in  either  direction.  She 
could  only  discern  the  tops  of  the  mountains  as  they 
showed  against  the  starry  sky,  and  the  glimmering 
snow  for  a  few  feet  immediately  around  her.  In  this 
small  space  she  perceived  that  the  side  of  the  hill  on 
.  which  she  had  fallen  rose  abruptly,  and  that  on  the 
other  side  the  embankment  sloped  some  fifty  feet  to  a  J 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


27 


wide  valley.  In  the  valley  she  heard  the  sound  of  a 
rushing  river. 

She  was  not  more  adventurous  or  heroic  than  is  the 
i  average  woman.  She  had  travelled  far,  it  was  true, 
hut  the  dangers  which,  in  her  own  version  of  her  ex- 
ploits, she  had  always  vigorously  triumphed  over,  had 
|heen  chiefly  imaginary ;  she  had  sufficient  good  sense 
to  he  inwardly  conscious  that  it  was  so.  Kow,  realiz- 
ing that,  unprotected  as  she  was  from  the  cold  and  un- 
:nown  dangers,  she  might  easily  be  out  of  reach  of 
my  succour,  she  perceived  that  no  affectation  of  cour- 
ige  would  avail  her,  that  no  glorious  account  which 
she  might  ever  write  of  her  own  pro^vess  would  com- 
)ensate  for  her  present  suffering. 

"What  danger  she  might  be  in  from  bears  or  wolves, 
phe  did  not  know ;  the  darkness  became  full  of 
jhadow^y  shapes  and  unimaginable  terrors  ;  but  to  re- 
nain  still,  lightly  clad,  in  the  winter  night  was  certain 
leath.  She  could  walk  nowhere  but  upon  the  line, 
[haven  smooth  by  the  engine's  plough,  for  the  snow 
ly  drifted  a  foot  or  eighteen  inches  deep  upon  the 
lillside.  At  first  she  hurt  her  small  feet  badly  again 
md  again,  because  she  could  not  see  the  hard  sleepers, 
)ut  gradually  she  learnt  to  measure  her  pace  to  their 
listance,  and  then  she  got  on  better. 

She  often  cast  frightt  'ed  glances  behind,  but  in 
[11  the  darkness  there  wat  nothing,  neither  sound,  nor 
lovement,  nor  shape — which  increased  her  alarm. 


I 


*■.* 


28 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


!!i!T:T 


m.\t 


'!!! 


m 


ir 


Hi'?' 

"iiiiij  ■ 
[Ml' 
m 


When  she  had  had  time  to  discover  that  in  the 
present  solitude  there  was  nothing  to  terrify,  lier 
fears  began  to  centre  about  the  settlement  towards 
which  she  supposed  herself  to  be  going.  How  could 
she  tell  whether  she  would  find  friends  or  enemies  in 
any  house  which  she  ventured  to  disturb  ?  She  re- 
membered with  relief  that  what  money  and  valuables 
she  had  brought  on  her  journey  were  secreted  in  the 
bosom  of  her  dress.  Some  of  her  hardihood  came 
back  with  the  knowledge  that  she  was  not  without 
that  magic  power  which,  so  far,  had  always  served 
her  in  every  emergency.  In  imagination  she  began 
to  conduct  shrewd  bargains  with  such  settlers  or 
Indians  as  she  might  be  fortunate  enough  to  meet. 
After  that  it  occurred  to  her  that  wealth  might  prove 
her  worst  foe ;  how  easy  it  would  be  in  this  region  to 
put  her  poor  little  body  out  of  sight  to  gain  posses- 
sion of  a  considerable  sum  of  money.  Yet  she  did| 
not  throw  away  the  money;  she  had  too  great  anj 
idea  of  her  own  power  of  finesse.  She  believed  that] 
in  cleverness  and  knowledge  of  the  w^orld  she  could  i 
outwit  even  evil-minded  folk.  By  that  strange  lapse  j 
of  attention  so  often  seen  in  those  who  take  precau- 
tions, while  thinking  of  her  purse,  she  forgot  the! 
diamond  ring  upon  her  hand,  the  very  diamond  of 
whose  dangerous  value  she  had  boasted  to  the  mis-j 
sionary. 

A  vast  sky  of  sparkling  stars  above,  vast  darkling] 


i; 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


29 


slopes  of  snow-clad  peaks  around — nothing  elhc  was 
there,  but  the  black  valley,  the  sound  of  the  river, 
darkness,  solitude,  and  one  small  girlish  figure  walk- 
ing fast  upon  the  curving  iron  road ;  it  was  very 
wonderful — the  girl  herself  had  enough  poetic  feel- 
in<r  to  realize  how  wonderful  it  was. 

She  realized  her  picturesqueness ;  she  did  not 
realize  what  an  air  of  gentleness  and  helplessness 
hung  about  her  in  contrast,  as  she  now  stood,  to  ele- 
ments which  she  could  not  control.  She  had  so  lived 
tluit  she  had  conceived  of  herself  as  an  imperious  and 
indoniitable  person,  admirable  because  she  willed  it, 
not  because  of  restraint.  She  hardly  knew  that  she 
only  lived  by  the  favour  of  others  and  was  in  the 
depths  of  her  own  heart  gentle  and  fearful. 

She  knew  that  here  the  trains  only  passed  in  each 
I  direction  once  a  day.     She  knew  that  no  train  was 
due  now  until  the  next  eveninc:.     Iler  onlv  chance 
of  life  was  to  find  some  shelter.     She  walked  a  long 
[way,  and  yet  she  saw  no  sign  of  house  or  footstep. 
|The  railroad  had  left  the  close  proximity  of  the  near- 
est slope,  and  was  now  crossing  the  mouth  of  a  notch 
)r  gully. 

At  length  there  was  some  unevenness  in  the  snow 
)n  either  side  of  the  narrow  embankment  on  which 
pie  was  walking.  She  discovered  that  at  this  point  a 
pedge  road  crossed  the  line ;  the  road  was  not  much 
)eaten,  it  was  true — the  ruts  of  the  runners  and  the 


30 


THE   MADONNA   OF  A  DAY. 


!.i 


il    IM 


ihi\' , 

n 


§ 


Ik 


prints  of  tlic  iiorse's  feet  were  cut  deep  into  the  snow; 
still,  it  was  certain  that  here  was  a  track  to  some 
dwelling.  It  struck  Iku*  then  to  stoop  down  and  feel 
inside  the  prints  of  the  horse's  hoofs,  to  discover  if 
possible  which  way  he  had  travelled.  Her  plump 
white  fingers  ached  in  contact  with  the  snow.  She 
tried  a  great  many  of  the  hoof-prints  before  she  felt 
sure ;  but  at  length  she  satisfied  herself  that  in  fol- 
lov/ing  the  track  away  from  the  river  into  a  wide 
notch  in  the  hills,  she  would  be  going  in  the  right 
direction.  In  this  notch  there  was  the  sound  of  a 
mountain  stream  ;  she  saw  no  water  in  the  darkness. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  now  but  to  trudge  on. 
On  and  on  she  went  for  an  hour  or  more.     At  length 
she   descried   a  glow  in  the   distant  darkness,  that 
seemed  to  proceed  from  some  artificial  light ;  it  did 
not  look  like  a  light  in  a  window,  yet  a  fire  of  some  j 
sort  it  certainly  was.     She  never  took  lier  eyes  off  itj 
as  she  walked ;  curiositj"  was  holding  the  balance  be- 
tween hope  and  fear.     The  light  flickered  npon  the  I 
black  air,  sometimes  brighter,  sometimes  less  bright. 
A  low  black  object  became  apparent,  outlined  against 
it.     AVhen  she  came  nearer,  she  saw  fences  by  thel 
roadside,  and  then  what  looked  like  several  low  shedsj 
lying  at  different   angles   to   one   another.     Beyond! 
that,  there  were  only  the  slopes  of  the  notch,  whicli| 
here  had  a  wide  level  bottom. 


CIIAPTEH  IV. 


When  Mary  drew  near  the  lints,  her  hopes  were 
not  raised  by  hearing  iiproarions  bnrsts  of  revelry 
from  the  direction  in  which  she  saw  the  light  of  the 
fire.  It  was  the  shout  of  many  voices  singing  at 
once,  and  laughing  as  they  sang ;  they  were  all  men's 
voices.  The  girl  felt  that  now  it  would  be  necessary 
to  take  her  life  in  her  hand  and  demand  shelter  from 
the  inhabitants,  whoever  they  might  be.  She  stood 
just  inside  the  fence ;  a  sudden  feeling  of  faintness 
roused  her  to  the  necessity  of  keeping  up  her  cour- 


tage. 


She  went  up  to  the  nearest  building,  but  saw  no 
Isiij^n  of  lio-ht  or  movement  within  it.  It  was  a  dwell- 
ing  apparently,  and  she  had  hoped  that  if  the  men 
Iwere  at  some  wild  merry-making  outside,  she  might 
ind  some  woman  within.  She  knocked,  but  there 
was  no  answer.  She  opened  the  door  and  ventured 
in ;  it  was  quite  dark,  and  she  was  afraid  to  venture 
Farther.  The  next  shed  that  she  came  to  was  evi- 
[lently  a  stabb ;  she  judged,  from  the  sounds  that  she 


,  ill 


82 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


Id 


II 


m 


heard,  tliat  there  were  both  oxen  and  liorscs  inside. 
She  ventured  nearer  to  the  third  building,  behind 
which  a  company  of  men  were  evidently  holding 
some  sort  of  festivah 

She  remembered  now  at  what  time  of  the  year 
she  was  travelling.  A  sudden  liope  sprang  np  in  her 
mind  that  the  revel  might  bo  held  in  honour  of  the 
festival  of  the  Church ;  if  so  she  might  have  nothing 
to  fear.  She  did  not  believe  in  religion,  but  at  thi- 
time  she  realized  its  use.  It  was  this  hope  that  in- 
spired her  with  courage  to  follow  the  path  round  the 
last  shed,  and  to  take  one  step  beyond  the  last  shadow- 
ing wall,  to  see  what  was  to  be  seen. 

The  sight  that  met  her  eye  w^as  indeed  a  festival 
in  honour  of  Christmas,  but  not  of  that  devout  sort 
which  would  have  rendered  her  fearless. 

In  the  centre  lay  heaped  the  red  logs  of  what  had 
been  a  huge  bonfire.     Yellow  flame  still  sometimes! 
leaped  from  them,  but  a  hot  red  glow  was  the  princi-| 
pal  part  of  the  firelight.      All  around  this,  seated, 
some  on  logs,  some  upon  the  ground,  were  a  com- 
pany of  about  twelve  men,  dressed  in  the  roughest! 
fashion.     "With  tw^o  exceptions  they  were  not  only 
'    hardened  and  wuld-looking,  but  evidently  of  a  low] 
grade  in  the  social  scale.     Of  the  two  who  as  evi- 
dently did  not  belong  to  the  same  class,  the  morel 
noticeable  was  apparently  master  of  the  place,  or  fori 
the  time  being  king  of  the  revels.    He  sat  upon  a  seat! 


ML. 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


33 


somcwliat  raised  above  the  otliers  and  at  the  side  of 
the  ring  opposite  to  the  snow-pile  pgainst  which  ^Mary 
btood.  ller  knowledge  of  the  world  was  of  such  sort 
tliut  she  recognized  the  type  to  which  Lis  face  be- 
longed instantly,  lie  was  a  man  who  had  early 
worked  his  way  through  all  the  vices  of  society,  and 
having  graduated  with  the  degree  of  outcast,  liad 
brought  to  the  wild  Western  life  an  education  which 
enabled  hiin  to  develop  its  most  dangerous  elements, 
lie  had  a  handsome  daring  face,  and  wore  a  battered 
remnant  of  gentility  in  his  haughty  bearing. 

The  first  moment  that  the  young  English  woman 
stood  among  the  snow-heaps  in  the  darkling  confines 
of  the  firelight  was  enough  to  give  her  a  tolerably 
clear  comprehension  of  the  beings  with  whom  she 
had  to  do.  She  had  forgotten  the  diamond  upon  her 
liand ;  involuntarily  the  same  hand  stole  to  her  breast 
to  feel  if  the  packet  of  money  hidden  there  lay  well 
concealed.  Just  one  moment  she  hesitated,  and  then 
s]»e  would  have  turned  and  fled  anywhere  into  the 
pitiless  wilderness,  but  she  had  not  the  opportunity. 

AVith  a  howl  of  terror,  one  of  the  roughest  of 
tlie  men  threw  down  his  cards  and  staggered  to  his 
feet.  They  all  looked  toward  the  figure  at  which  he 
pointed. 

Those  who  sat  wath  their  backs  to  her  stumbled 
over  each  other  in  the  panic  of  terror  with  which 
they  turned  and  faced  her.  •  •    ;      ^ 


34 


THE  :madonna  of  a  day. 


fj'j;,', 


They  had  all  been  drinking  freely ;  the  terror  of 
more  than  one  of  thein  found  vent  in  a  groan  or  cry. 
The  rougher  men  stood  huddled  together  between 
her  and  the  fire ;  the  master  of  the  carouse  stood  up 
in  his  place,  staring  with  keen  anxiety.  Twice  he 
passed  his  hands  before  his  eyes ;  he  desired  to  pro- 
claim that  he  saw  nothing,  but  he  only  continued  to 
stare. 

What  courage  the  girl  had  had,  and  all  her  world- 
ly shrewdness  and  bargaining  spirit,  forsook  her,  per- 
haps by  very  sympathy  with  the  terror  she  inspired. 
Her  heart  so  beat  with  the  fear  of  what  might  hap- 
pen when  these  men  regained  their  courage  that  she 
was  powerless  to  do  other  than  simply  stand  motion- 
less before  them. 

Then  suddenly  some  of  the  foremost  kneeled  be- 
fore her  on  the  ground,  and,  with  abject  gestures, 
began  to  mutter  to  themselves,  and  to  her,  rhythmic 
sentences.  The  man  who  had  first  seen  her,  a  big 
half-tipsy  Celt,  began  in  Irish  accents  to  whine  out 
the  conclusion  that  he  also  had  reached. 

"It's  the  Ilowly  Motherr  herself!  May  the 
Saints  presarve  us !  May  Iliven  have  mercy  on  our 
tjowls,  for  we  need  it  this  day.  It's  the  Ilowly  Moth- 
err  come  to  tell  us  what  sinners  we  arr." 

There  she  stood  in  the  eternal  sanctity  of  young 
and  beautiful  womanhood,  her  eyes  wide  and  bright 
with  piteous  excitement,  her  rounded  cheeks  pallid 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


35:«r 


with  fear.  The  winter  wind  moved  lightly  what 
folds  of  her  blue  veil  w^ere  hanging  loose  from  her 
liead  downward ;  the  hand  that  had  in  reality  been 
feeling  for  the  safety  of  her  purse  seemed  to  be  laid 
in  saintly  meekness  upon  her  breast,  and  in  the  fire- 
light the  diamond  upon  it  flashed  as  the  stars  flashed 
in  the  black  heaven  above.  Behind  her,  stretching 
into  inimitable  shadow,  was  the  wilderness  of  moun- 
tain snow  across  which  no  earthly  woman  could  have 
come  alone,  beside  her  the  wall  of  the  rude  stable 
through  which  the  movements  of  the  oxen  could  be 
heard — and  it  was  Christmas  night. 

Some  dim  dramatic  notion  of  the  meaning  of  the 
scene,  of  the  character  that  had  been  thrust  upon  her, 
was  not  long  in  coming  to  the  girl's  quick  mind. 
She  did  not  at  first  grasp  its  full  significance ;  she 
thought  of  it  as  the  transient  farce  of  a  moment. 
The  men  at  her  feet,  half  drunk,  were  mastered  by 
the  superstitions  of  their  class.  She  perceived  that  it 
was  with  their  leader  that  she  would  have  to  do ; 
he,  hardened  and  reckless,  was  coming  in  a  moment 
to  kick  aside  the  delusion  with  a  sneer,  so  she 
thought. 

He  did  come ;  he  did  kick  aside  something,  but  it 
was  only  the  bodies  of  the  kneeling  men  w^ho  were 
in  his  way.  He  strode  up  fiercely  and  stood  before 
her;  he  bent  his  handsome,  reckless,  wicked  face 
down  to  the  level  of  hers,  and  stared  hard. 


r' 
h..  ,'(l 


If! '  B 


36 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


She  liad  never  before  experienced  such  a  misery 
of  fear  and  dislike,  for  she  had  never  had  cause ; 
yet  even  in  this  moment,  knowing  tliat  upon  this 
man's  pleasure  hung  her  life,  she  did  not  betray  her 
repulsion ;  she  looked  at  him  steadily ;  she  tried  to 
speak. 

She  made  the  motion  of  throat  and  lips  that  pro- 
duces voice,  but  no  voice  came,  only  the  faintest 
whisper  that  hardly  reached  her  own  ears.  She  re- 
alized now  what  that  strange  strained  feeling  in  her 
throat  had  been  as  she  had  walked  through  the  winter 
night :  the  intense  cold  had  robbed  her  of  the  power 
of  speech.     She  stood  before  her  persecutor  dumb. 

Upon  her  art  of  argument  and  persuasion  she  had 
relied  as  the  only  weapon  by  which  she  could  possibly 
save  herself.  Finding  that  she  was  unable  to  speak, 
losing  at  the  same  moment  all  hope,  the  pathos  of  her 
situation  brought  to  her  the  sudden  impulse  to  hide 
her  face  and  w^eep  bitterly.  She  overcame  it  with  in- 
stinctive courage,  but  upon  her  face  was  written  a 
mute  appeal  that  no  dramatic  effort  could  have  painted 
there. 

The  man  who  for  a  minute,  w^ith  eyes  that  were 
bold  enough,  had  inspected  the  youthful  contour  of  the 
face,  the  rich  veiling,  the  simplicity  of  her  gown,  sud- 
denly, still  staring  at  her,  staggered  backwards ;  even 
in  the  firelight  the  sudden  pallor  of  his  face,  the  hag- 
gard draw'ing  of  its  lines,  was  visible. 


Ibore 
iiiinsi 
lie  lipi 
Form 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


87 


On  seeing  that  he  had  given  way,  the  big  Irish- 
man threw  himself  with  his  face  upon  the  ground,  and 
cried  hke  a  boy  who  was  being  beaten,  witli  mingled 
howls  and  exclamations.  Three  of  the  men  slunk 
away  one  after  the  other  round  the  other  end  of  the 
shed ;  some  still  upon  their  knees  continued  to  mumble 
prayers. 

Grasping  at  the  straw  of  her  temporary  safety,  a 
lono-ing  that  the  delusion  might  continue  found  a  place 
in  her  heart.  She  had  no  hope  as  yet  that  this  might 
be  possible.  Although  with  little  perception  of  the 
remote  distance  between  her  inmost  self  and  the  char- 
acter she  personated,  she  still  felt  too  entirely  removed 
from  all  that  was  religious  and  supernatural  to  per- 
ceive to  the  full  the  excuse  for  the  men's  delusion. 
She  would  not  have  scrupled  to  act  the  character 
ciumce  had  assigned  to  her  if  she  had  known  how  to 
do  it  or  hoped  to  succeed,  but  because  she  feared  to 
play  a  part,  and  because  she  abstained  from  natural 
[emotion  lest  the  spell  should  be  broken,  the  men  saw 
j  nothing  but  a  silent  gentle  girl,  and  she  perfectly  ful- 
iilled  their  ideal,  such  inarticulate  undefined  ideal  as 
[they  had,  of  the  Queen  of  Heaven. 

The  only  man  who,  like  the  master  of  the  company, 
|bore  signs  of  having  lived  once  in  civilization,  gathered 
liimself  up  now  from  the  ground  where  all  this  time 
he  had  been  sitting,  and  came  forward.  lie  was  de- 
formed and  thereby  dwarfed.     He  had  a  lean,  nerv- 


38 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Oils,  cynical  face.  It  seemed  to  her  that  his  deformity 
might  have  made  him  interesting  if  he  had  not  seemed 
so  tlioronghly  a  cad  in  spite  of  it.  She  feared  him 
the  more  because  of  his  ingrained  caddishness.  All 
this  time  he  had  been  sitting  staring,  like  the  others, 
at  the  apparition  of  the  blue-veiled  woman ;  now  he 
did  not  bestow  further  uitention  upon  her  appearance. 
He  touched  the  arm  of  the  man  who  had  peered  so 
rudely  in  her  face. 

"  I  thay,  Hamilton,  there  muth  be  a  cawiage  or  a 
cab  at  the  fwont  gate." 

Hamilton  turned  upon  him  with  upraised  arm,  as 
if  he  would  have  felled  him  with  one  blow ;  then,  in- 
stantly changing,  he  gave  a  furtive  look  all  round,  as 
fearing  he  knew  not  what,  and  questioned  the  other's 
face  with  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  I  thay,  you  might  atli  well  come  and  thee 
— mutht  have  come  here  thome  way,  you  know." 

"  By ,  shut  up ! "     The  ejaculation  came  from 

the  other  in  muffled  haste,  and  with  it  again  a  mo- 
mentary raising  of  the  powerful  arm  as  if  it  twitched 
to  take  vengeance  upon  some  one  ;  and  then,  without 
another  word  or  glance,  without  another  instant's  hesi- 
tation, he  strode  past  the  men,  past  the  fireplace,  round 
the  other  end  o":  the  shed  where  some  of  the  men  had 
already  disappeared.  There  was  purpose  in  his  stride ; 
the  girl  knew  that  he  was  acting  upon  the  suggestion 
of  the  deformed  dwarf  who  followed  at  his  heels. 


real  it 

came 

lieara 

own 

divin] 

nuird( 

those 

SI: 

her  hi 

down 

away 


THE  MADONXA  OF  A  DAY. 


39 


She  was  left  now  alone  with  the  little  group  of 
men  whose  ignorant  superstition  had  for  the  hour  been 
changed  by  the  sight  of  her  into  undoubting  devotion 
—  such  devotion  as  they  were  capable  of,  which  was 
manifested  chiefly  by  tlie  bringing  forward  of  their 
own  desires,  for,  under  the  impression  that  her  stay 
with  them  must  be  very  short,  they  had  already  begun 
to  mingle  audible  petitions  with  the  confused  Aves 
and  Paternosters,  that  she  could  neither  hear  nor  un- 
derstand. To  her  astonishment  she  heard  herself  be- 
sought to  intercede  for  them.  Accusing  themselves 
wildly,  they  spoke  to  her  as  if  she  must  be  aware  that 
they  had  killed  certain  of  their  enemies,  and  tlieir 
desire  to  be  forgiven  in  heaven  was  confused  with 
bemoanings  concerning  a  penalty  to  be  paid  on 
earth. 

AYhile  these  petitions  swiftly  proved  to  her  the 
reality  of  the  delusion  which  had  occurred,  she  be- 
came too  frightened  by  the  nature  of  what  she 
heard  to  think  how  best  to  turn  the  delusion  to  her 
own  account.  Even  these  men  who  believed  in  her 
divinity  confessed  themselves  capable  of  violence  and 
nmrder,  and  no  doubt  she  had  more  to  fear  from 
those  others  who  did  not  believe. 

She  dared  not  continue  to  stand  where  she  was ; 
her  back  was  to  the  path  by  which  she  had  come,  for 
down  that  path  assuredly  the  men  who  had  gone 
away  would  soon  return.     Fearing  that  in  the  silent 


) 


M 


40 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


snow  they  might  steal  upon  her  unawares,  she  herself 
turned  and  went  slowly  back  to  meet  them. 

There  was  a  certain  amount  of  dramatic  instinct 
in  the  very  blood  of  this  modern  girl.  Too  much 
afraid  to  play  a  part  consciously,  she  yet  was  inca- 
pable, within  hearing  of  the  Aves,  which  w^ere  still 
repeated,  of  walking  with  her  ordinary  free  and  easy 
gait;  she  paced  slowly,  because  she  was  afraid  of 
what  might  await  her  at  the  other  side,  and  the  mien 
which  she  instinctively  assumed  was  vei-y  dignified 
and  very  modest.  AValking  thus,  with  the  Irish  la- 
bourers following  and  still  calling  upon  her  in  prayer, 
she  came  upon  the  open  space  between  the  sheds,  in 
front  of  that  first  shed  which  seemed  to  be  the  dwell- 
ing-house. 

Several  of  the  men  had  been  examining  the  road 
with  a  lantern.  They  were  still  standing  outside  the 
gat  _  conversing  with  one  another — not  peacefully  ; 
there  were  signs  of  agitation  and  irritation  in  their 
tones  and  movements.  The  upshot  of  the  colloquy 
was  only  an  evident  increase  of  perplexity  and  con- 
sternation in  them  all.  The  girl's  mind  was  wide 
awake  to  what  concerned  her  safety ;  she  saw  clearly 
that  she  must  be  at  so  great  a  distance  from  any  other 
settlement  or  dwelling  that  the  fact  that  they  found 
no  vehicle,  or  track  of  vehicle,  made  her  appearance 
seem  to  them  entirely  inexplicable,  if  not  supernatu- 
ral.    With  this  evidence  of  the  isolation  of  her  pres-l 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


41 


ent  situation  her  lieart  sank ;  slie  was  tired,  hungry, 
coUl,  ill,  and  in  peril. 

The  man  Hamilton  came  suddenly  in  from  the 
gate ;  some  further  thought  of  inquiry  seemed  to 
have  occurred  to  him.  With  an  evident  effort  of 
boldness,  again  he  came  quite  near.  He,  too,  knelt 
at  her  feet,  laying  the  lantern  upon  the  ground ;  his 
object  was  not  prayer,  but  the  inspection  of  her  foot- 
gear. When  he  had  looked  for  a  full  minute  at  the 
dainty  woollen  slippers,  snow-caked  though  they  were, 
he  rose  and  recoiled  from  her  again.  His  compan- 
ions came  up,  standing  behind  him ;  the  lantern  re- 
niuiiied  upon  the  ground  like  a  footlight;  they  all 
looked  at  the  weary  girlish  figure  it  displayed,  at  the 
face  in  its  blue  veil,  at  tlie  white  jewelled  hands,  at  the 
simple  petticoat  trinmaed  with  snow  as  with  ermine 
edging,  at  the  tiny  bedraggled  slippers  and  aching  feet. 

"  She  can't  have  travelled  more  than  a  mile  at 
most,  and  kept  them  things  on  her  feet."  The  words 
came  in  a  low  cautious  tone  from  one  of  the  men  at 
the  back. 

"  She  ain't  no  ghost,"  whispered  anotlier. 

The  voice  of  an  American  came  out  upon  the 
inght  air  with  startling  clearness.  "  I'd  be  a  deal 
less  scared,  for  my  part,  of  all  the  ghosts  and  spirits 
in  creation,  for  they  could  have  come  here  quite  natu- 
ral accordin'  to  their  usual  ways  of  going  about.  But 
how  this  sweet  blooming  gal— 


?> 


42 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


Some  one  with  a  wliispered  volley  of  oaths  si- 
lenced him. 

Some  one  else  instantly  exclaimed,  "  Stop  it !     I'll 

be if  I  hear  another  word  of language  afore 

her." 

The  thrill  of  a  new  idea  seemed  suddenly  to  pass  1 
through  this  group  of  men  who  stood  in  the  sceptical  | 
attitude  toward  the  Madonna  of  their  more  ignorant 
fellows.  There  was  an  instant's  hesitation,  and  then 
the  dwarf  took  his  hat  off  and  held  it  in  his  hand ;  | 
the  others  did  the  same  thing,  last  of  all  the  master 
of  the  place,  Hamilton. 


CHAPTEK  Y. 


The  girl  lay  alone  upon  a  small  camp  bed  in  the 

midst  of  the  one  long  low  room  which  constituted 

tlie  whole  interior  of  the  dwelling-house.     On  either 

side  of  her  was  a  row  of  similar  camp  beds ;  they 

l^vere  all  empty.     The  room  was  hot,  for  a  huge  fire 

)f  logs  had  been  made  in  the  large  iron  stove;  the 

room   was  dark,  except   for  fitful  gleams   of   flame 

|ie:ht    that    struggled   through   the   closed   dampers. 

he  windows,  placed  somewhat  high  in  the  wooden 

m\h,  were  black  as  uncurtained  glass  is  black  when 

has  the  darkest  hour  of  night  behind  it.     There 

'US  no  sound  but  the  soft  noise  of  the  fire  which  had 

}ased  to  crackle  and  the  dull  tramping  of  animals  in 

[leir  wooden  stables.    The  stillness  of  snow  was  upon 

|ie  land  outside,  the  stillness  of  sleep  upon  the  men 

rho  had  gone  to  huddle   among  the   straw  in  the 

[armth  of  the  stalls. 

The  girl  was  not  asleep  ;  she  lay  motionless,  afraid 

rise  and  move  about  lest  her  movements  might  in 

^me  way  be  spied  upon,  and  she  might  thereby  en- 


I 


44 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


dancrer  herself.  She  did  not  know  who  beside  herscif 
slept  or  woke ;  she  did  not  know  upon  what  terms 
she  held  her  present  safety ;  a  slow  fever  from  the 
chill  through  which  she  had  passed  was  workin<ij 
through  her  veins,  and  the  profound  excitement  of 
apprehension  and  anxious  scheming  kept  the  current 
of  thought  coursing  within  her  brain. 

There  were  minutes  together  wherein  she  could 
not  make  herself  believe  that  she  lay  where  she  did 
lie,  and  in  the  heart  ot  so  strange  a  situation.  Surely 
there  was  some  mistake ;  she  was  such  a  common- 
place person,  well  meaning  too ;  why  should  this  have 
befallen  her?  It  was  true  that  for  years  the  main 
object  of  her  existence  had  been  to  appear  something 
other  than  commonplace,  something  much  more  dar- 
ing than  merely  well-meaning.  She  had  tried  to  dash 
into  literature ;  she  had  dashed  into  foreign  travel, 
merely  because  to  be  inconspicuous  and  ordinary  had 
seemed  intolerable ;  and  yet  now  she  found  herself 
pleading  these  very  attributes  against  the  caprice  of  a 
too-cruel  fate. 

All  the  time  she  showed  this  much  strength, 
physical  and  mental,  that  she  lay  still.  She  per- 
ceived that  it  was  in  order  that  she  might  rest  that  a 
dozen  rude  men  had  resigned  house-room  and  com- 
fort ;  it  would  be  well,  then,  that  she  should  satisfy 
their  expectations  and  appear  to  rest.  For  her,  in 
very  truth,  the  night  had  a  thousand  eyes,  for  she  had 


il 


TOR  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


45 


no  means  of  knowing  where  her  enemies  had  be- 
stowed themselves.  Were  they  enemies?  Were  tliey 
friends?  How  could  she  tell?  The  thing  which 
was  eating  into  her  heart  with  an  ever-increasing 
wonder  was  the  belief  that  even  the  cleverest  and 
wickedest  of  them  was  under  the  glamour  of  a 
str.mge  delusion  about  herself,  and  it  was  to 
this  alone  that  she  owed  their  neutrality,  if  not 
direct  friendliness.  Through  the  confusion  of  her 
thoughts  she  began  to  realize  more  and  more  clear- 
ly that  that  on  wdiich  she  relied  for  safety  was  her 
power  to  fall  in,  moment  by  moment,  with  the  re- 
quirements of  this  delusion.  •  This  new  character, 
indeed,  seemed  to  wrap  her  round  as  a  vesture,  so 
vividly  had  it  been  impressed  on  her  excited  nerves 
as  her  only  shield.  AVhat  this  character  was  she  did 
not  put  to  herself  in  words  ;  she  only  felt  intuitively 
the  outward  semblance  of  the  graces  which  it  im- 
plied. Her  efforts  to  escape,  then,  must  be  in  this 
guise. 

So  far  she  had  arrived  at  some  clearness  of 
diought ;  now  suddenly  all  her  nerves  vibrated  to 
a  slight  sound,  the  creak  that  a  footfall  makes  upon 
light,  hard-frozen  snow.  She  heard  a  hand  laid 
I  almost  noiselessly  upon  the  latch  from  without;  her 
pulses  seemed  to  stop,  and  then  move  madly,  and  stop 


lagam. 


The  door  silently  opened,  perhaps  an  inch  or  two ; 


I    ! 

ii 


H 

46 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


she  felt  the  cold  air  enter  instantly,  an  invisible  her- 
ald of  what  danger  she  could  not  guess. 

Whoever  was  there  it  seemed  would  have  entered, 
but  another  footfall,  as  quiet  but  much  more  hasty, 
was  heard,  and  a  slight  scuiHe,  a  low  growl  almost 
like  that  of  two  dogs.  Out  of  the  confused  stealthy 
noises  of  this  quarrel  the  girl  began  to  hear  the 
whispering  of  two  voices,  the  door  still  standing  ajar, 
the  men  as  it  seemed  holding  each  other  back  upon 
the  threshold.  They  were  the  voices  of  Hamilton 
and  of  the  deformed  cynical  man  who  lisped. 

The  lisp  struck  her  ear  again  as  something  pecul- 
iarly horrible,  because,  altliough  evidently  an  actual 
impediment  of  speech,  it  had  the  sound  of  an  affecta- 
tion which,  in  the  midst  of  such  a  life,  would  have 
denoted  a  character  almost  inhuman  in  its  love  of 
pretence. 

The  dwarf's  voice  came  first.     "You're  a  d 


fool,  Hamilton.     I  am  only  going  to  thee  if  the  lady 
ith  here." 

"  And  why  shouldn't  she  be  there  ? "  Hamilton's 
voice  was  tense,  suggesting  fierce  feeling  of  more 
than  one  sort,  but  controlled  to  a  fixed  limit. 

"  If  I  could  have  theen  the  cawiage  that  bwouglit 
her  here  I'd  have  more  idea  why  the  thould  weraain. 
How  could  I  thleep  for  the  devilith  queerneth  of  it? 
If  it  ith  devilith  queer,  why  should  we  be  a  pair  of  I 
foolth  and  give  her  time  to  be  off  again  ? "     Then  his  I 


TUB  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


4T 


voice  changed  from  weak  i  .nonstranco  to  that  other 
more  practical  tone.  '*  Hamilton,  have  a  look  at  the 
divinity.  If  the'th  vanithed  into  thin  air  there'th  no 
lijirni  in  going  in ;  if  the'th  there,  we  can  look  at  the 
fire  and  come  out!  " 

The  answer  was  in  precisely  the  same  tense  voice. 
"  Will  you  come  back  to  the  stable,  or " 

It  seemed  as  though  neither  of  the  men  was 
aware  that  the  door  was  ajar.  Perhaps  the  dwarf 
had  forgotten,  and  in  the  darkness  Hamilton  saw 
nothing.     The  logs  in  the  stove  had  ceased  to  flicker. 

The  dwarf  said,  "If  you  like  a  pwetty  girl  to  be 
left  without   a   thpark   of   fire   to  catli   her  pwetty 

death  of  cold  I  won't  quawel  with  you "     She 

lost  some  words  here. 

Among  those  that  followed  only  a  few  phrases 
here  and  there  w^ere  distinct.  She  heard  the  word 
"diamond."  Then  the  dwarfs  voice:  "I'm  dithint- 
wethted  " — "  you  are  king  here — " — "  could  get 
Father  Paul  down  from  Cree  thettlement " —  "  come 
here  of  her  own  accord — her  own  doing." 

Hamilton's  voice  was  more  distinct :  "  What  I 
say  is,  I'll  have  a  look  at  her  by  daylight.  When  the 
Sim's  up  we'll  know  whether  it's  angel  or  devil,  or 
what  it  is."  The  tense  voice  changed  to  almost  a 
reflective  tone.  "By  Heaven,  I  wish  I  knew  now 
which  it  is." 

The  dwarf's  voice  came  again;  the  accent  was 


.|':!5 


48 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


distinctly  lower  middle  class.  Tncre  was  a  sneer  in 
it  that  made  licr  sure  that  this  man,  at  least,  had  no 
sense  of  honour.  "  Ton  my  thoul,  I'm  conthumed 
with  cuwiothity  to  know  if  i'th  vanithed  into  thin  air 
or  not — only  hothpitable  to  put  more  wood  on  the 
fire." 

With  a  smothered  exclamation  at  finding  the  door 
open,  they  came  in  and  crossed  the  floor  on  tiptoe. 

The  girl  had  heard  them  coming  ;  she  had  decided 
what  to  do.  With  hands  pressed  togetlier  upon  her 
breast,  as  if  her  last  waking  motion  had  been  prayer, 
she  lay  as  it  seemed  in  a  sleep  of  childlike  innocence. 

When  the  men  had  come  within  a  yard  of  her 
pallet  bed  they  lit  a  bit  of  broken  candle.  The  light 
revealed  the  room  in  all  its  coarse  and  even  uncleanly 
detail.  The  other  beds  had  clothes  and  blankets 
rudely  strewn  upon  them.  Under  a  table,  boots, 
pipes,  bottles,  and  such  ugly  articles,  had  been  hastily 
hidden,  and  were  still  protruding  from  a  cover  too 
small  for  the  heap.  On  one  bed  lay  the  young 
woman  wrapped  around  in  fine  silk ;  her  sleeping 
face  and  folded  hands  looked  to  the  men's  eyes  like 
wax  or  tinted  alabaster.  More  than  that,  in  the  face 
and  the  plump  curves  of  the  iiands  there  was  some- 
thing other  than  mere  beauty  of  form  and  colour- 
there  was  the  woman's  soul,  as  it  seemed  to  them| 
dependent  upon  their  strength — innocent,  trustful. 

A  minute  passed,  and  then  one  of  them  went  oiil 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


49 


tiptoe  to  tlie  stove,  and  renewed  its  fuel  with  a  touch 
more  deft  and  silent  than  would  have  appeared  pos- 
sible ;  then  thej  went  out  again,  and  shut  the  door. 

She  could  not  hear  now  what  they  said  to  one 
another,  but  it  seemed  that  they  parted,  for  after  she 
had  heard  one  go  to  another  shed,  she  heard  the  other 
begin  to  pace  up  and  down  before  the  door  of  the 
house.  One  of  them  had  chosen  to  pace  there  as 
sentry ;  after  a  v/hile  she  felt  sure,  from  the  length 
and  strength  of  the  step,  that  the  sentry  was  Hamil- 
ton. 


1 

■ ) 


CHAPTER  YI. 


If  it  had  not  been  for  that  slow  pacing  of  the 
sentry's  step  Mary  would  have  crept  out  in  the  dark- 
ness, and  gone  as  she  had  come,  in  the  madness  of 
fear  preferring  the  risk  of  dying  in  the  wilderness  of 
snow.  As  it  was  she  lay  still  through  the  night,  un- 
certain what  to  do.  The  first  faint  light  began  to 
glimmer  in  the  windows,  and  still  she  heard  the 
sentry's  monotonous  tread. 

It  w^as  useless  to  think  of  eluding  Hamilton's  vigi- 
lance. Well,  even  then,  was  it  not  better  to  rise  and 
essay  to  walk  away,  as  if  he  were  not  there  ?  If  he 
detained  her,  at  least  they  could  not  say  that  she  re- 
mained of  her  own  free  will,  and  her  mind  caught  at 
the  knowledge  that  it  must  appear  to  them  the  more 
inexplicable  if  she  should  attempt  to  leave  them  with- 
out explanation,  without  means  of  travelling,  and 
with  the  apparent  trust  that  they  would  let  her  go 
iinchallenged. 

The  night  before,  when  they  had  given  her  the 
room  to  sleep  in,  they  had  also  given  her  milk,  and 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


w 


of  the  remains  which  stood  in  a  pail  near  the  stove 
she  again  drank  deeply. 

She  wrapped  the  blue  folds  of  the  veil  more 
closely  around  her  aching  throat,  but  she  did  not  fail 
to  drape  the  loose  end  over  her  head  with  such  imita- 
tion as'  she  could  hastily  make  from  memory  of  the 
veils  painters  wrap  about  the  head  of  the  most  divine 
of  women.  She  was  too  pressed  by  stern  necessity 
to  give  more  than  a  dim  passing  thought  to  the  sensa- 
tion of  farce,  and  yet,  as  far  as  she  did  recognize  it, 
she  did  not  hate  it,  but  looked  upon  it  as  a  sensation 
which  in  some  future  time  of  safety  she  could  enjoy. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight,  only  grey  dawn  upon  the 
land  of  snow,  when  she  quietly  opened  the  door  with- 
out any  apparent  fear,  and  stepped  out  towards  the 
opening  of  the  enclosure.  She  saw  the  man  stop  his 
walk  and  stare.  She  felt  that  some  thanks  for  his 
hospitality  would  have  been  given  by  the  ideal  wom- 
an, but  she  knew^  not  how  to  smile  or  wave  her  hand 
as  such  a  woman  might ;  she  could  only  look  at  him 
with  large,  childlike,  and  unconscious  eyes.  This 
much  she  did,  and  went  on  down  the  path  of  snow. 

The  mati,  with  a  few  sudden  hasty  steps,  came  up 
to  her.  She  heard  him  close  behind  ;  it  was  all  that 
she  could  do  not  to  shrink  from  the  touch  which  she 
expected,  yet  she  did  not  shrink,  and  the  touch  did 
not  come. 

For  a  minute  or  more  his  footsteps  followed  hers. 


m 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Tlien,  when  elie  got  outside  a  rude  paling  and  turned 
upon  the  road  by  which  slie  had  come,  it  seemed  that 
he  had  become  convinced  what  it  was  she  intended 
to  do.  lie  made  past  her,  giving  her  a  wide  berth, 
but  turned  and  stood  in  the  road  directly  in  her  path. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Hamilton.  The 
words  came  as  if  some  torrent  of  feeling,  dammed  up, 
had  found  outlet. 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  her  throat.  It  was  an  in- 
stinctive gesture,  but  having  found  it  so  successful 
the  night  before,  there  was  something  slightly  more 
dramatic  in  her  use  of  it  now.  She  was  afraid  the 
man  detected  it,  for  he  looked  the  more  keenly  at  her. 
Then  she  pointed  forward  upon  the  road,  and  made  a 
motion  to  move  on. 

"  Do  not  go !  Come  back ;  w^e  will  give  you 
warmth  and  food  !  "  He  spoke  distinctly,  as  though 
to  a  foreigner ;  he  spoke  still  as  if  the  words  were  an 
outlet  to  strong  feeling,  but  she  could  not  tell  whether 
the  tone  besought  or  commanded,  or  w^hether  there 
was  not  in  it  perhaps  a  suggestion  that  for  some  rea- 
son he  would  feel  relief  if  she  went  on  her  way. 

After  a  moment's  consideration  she  walked  past 
him  upon  the  light  edge  of  the  deeper  snow,  and,  as  if 
apparently  forgetting  liis  very  existence,  went  on 
steadily.  : 

He  stood,  she  thought,  watching  her  for  some  time ; 
then  he  started  to  follow  her  and  she  heard  his  foot- 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


53 


■:>  i. 


on 


steps  come  near.  Then,  again,  another  thought  came 
to  liim,  for  he  went  back,  leaving  her  to  go  on  alone 
and,  as  it  seemed,  free. 

At  first  she  was  so  absorbed  in  the  fear  that  he 
might  return  that  she  did  not  for  a  long  time  take  any 
notice  of  the  features  of  the  world,  which  every  mo- 
ment grew  lighter  and  clearer. 

Yet  curiously  enough,  although  she  feared  his  re- 
turn, the  sense  of  freedom  w^as  in  itself  a  sense  of  dis- 
appointment. The  sudden  loss  of  the  excitement 
which  his  presence  produced  resulted  in  depression. 
With  the  effort  of  walking  in  the  snow  slie  began  to 
feel  her  own  feebleness,  and  before  her  lay — what  ? 

She  raised  her  head  now  and  looked  about  her. 
From  the  declivity  of  the  mountain  notch  down  which 
si  10  was  walking  she  could  see  on  either  side  only  the 
slopes  and  cliffs  which  rose  immediately  about  her. 
On  her  left  a  noisy  stream  w^as  descending  precipitous 
rocks.  At  its  base  there  was  a  cutting  in  the  ground, 
and  an  erection  of  wooden  troughs,  used,  evidently,  for 
mining  purposes.  On  this  side  tall  nr-trees  were 
clinging  to  the  steep,  but  the  other  slope  of  the  notch 
was  almost  bare  of  trees,  as  was  the  level  bottom,  as  if 
in  time  past  some  descending  glacier  had  scraped  the 
surface.  Outside  the  notch  lay  a  wide  valley,  the 
de[)th  of  which  was  bridged  by  her  line  of  vision.  All 
of  its  surface  that  she  could  see  was  clothed  by  forests 
of  firs,  dark,  green,  and  cold.    Beyond  it  snow-covered 


> 


M 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


mountains  stood,  range  above  range.  So  clear  was  tne 
air  that  it  did  not  seem  to  her  that  she  had  far  to  go  to 
obtain  a  full  view  of  the  valley  at  the  side  of  which  the 
railway  ran — it  did  indeed  but  appear  a  few  minutes' 
walk,  and  yet  when  she  had  walked  a  mile  it  hardly 
seemed  nearer. 

She  judged,  from  the  apparent  height  of  the  dis- 
tant mountains,  that  she  could  be  at  no  great  altitude. 
She  had  a  sense  of  proximity  to  other  mountains 
higher  and  nearer  than  those  she  saw.  Perhaps  she 
dimly  remembered  their  outlines,  seen  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night  before.     At  present  her  view  was  shut  in. 

The  light  snow  gave  more  or  less  under  her  weary 
feet.  The  twilight  of  morning  had  brought  such  a 
dead  and  frost-bitten  hue  upon  wold  of  snow  and  forest 
fir  that  her  very  soul  felt  chilled  in  correspondence 
with  this  strangely  drear  environment.  The  great  ex- 
citement of  the  previous  night,  which  had  culminated 
in  her  escape,  had  its  effect  of  reaction,  now  that  all 
cause  of  excitement  was  absent  for  the  moment,  in  a 
mood  of  hopelessness  which  she  had  never  experienced 
before. 

Following  the  one  track  which  broke  the  surface 
of  the  snow,  Mary  came  where  the  railway  had  been 
built  across  the  front  of  the  notch.  When  she  stood 
upon  its  firm  broad  road,  the  sides  of  the  notch  no 
longer  shut  in  her  vision,  and  her  eye  swept  eagerly 
the  landscape. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


55 


Parallel  with  tlie  railroad,  but  much  deeper  in  the 
valley,  ran  a  tumultuous  river ;  its  rapid  current  was 
dark  as  ink  ;  its  banks  were  deep  curling  drifts  of  snow, 
fringed  at  the  water's  edge  with  grots  and  caves  of  ice 
and  basalt-like  formation  of  icicles.  A  wide  area  of 
rock,  covered  with  snow  and  ice,  here  extended  on 
either  side  of  the  river.  The  bare  railway  embank- 
ment rose  sheer  from  these  rocks,  but  on  the  other  side 
the  level  of  the  valley  was  covered  with  an  evergreen 
forest  of  gigantic  trees.  In  the  distance,  to  what 
seemed  to  her  the  south-west,  this  valley  narrowed, 
conducting  the  river  through  a  rocky  gorge.  This  was 
the  only  gap  in  the  ring  of  mountains,  which,  some 
nearer,  some  farther  away,  surrounded  the  whole  scene. 
Directly  opposite  her  to  the  south  and  south-east,  hill 
ahove  hill,  peak  above  peak,  range  beyond  range,  stood 
cold  and  white.  Where  the  river  came  from  she  could 
not  tell,  for  mountains  with  wooded  sides  blocked  the 
valley  quite  near  her  to  the  east.  Considering  the 
problem  of  the  river,  she  at  length  turned  her  eyes 
from  what  had  been  before  her,  and  lifted  them  to 
that  part  of  the  view  immediately  behind  the  side  of 
the  notch  by  which  she  had  been  walking.  And  then 
it  seemed  that  all  these  other  hills  were  standing  in 
reverence,  a  little  apart  from  a  mountain  peak  that  was 
monarch  of  them  all.  As  her  eye  travelled  up  the  snow- 
clad  declivities  of  this  high  mountain,  she  felt  her  mind 
lifted  into  a  different  class  of  thoughts  and  sensations. 


^^f 


m  :^ 


I 


56 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Why  sliould  earth  have  been  so  formed  that  a 
vast  monument  of  such  transcendent  beauty  should 
happen  to  stand  here  in  this  bleak  chaotic  place? 
Against  the  cold  transparent  blue  of  the  northern 
sky,  in  which  the  stars  of  night  had  but  lately  died, 
its  massive  peak,  a  pyramid  as  it  were  of  smaller 
peaks  and  ridges,  stood  white  and  glistening.  Her 
eye  began  to  examine  curiously  certain  slopes  of 
snow  and  ice  some  distance  from  its  summit ;  they 
were  such  im,  onse  plains,  and  yet  they  were  but  an 
inch  or  two  upon  the  surface  of  this  glorious  edifice 
of  nature.  These  plains  of  uplifted  snow  grew 
brighter ;  there  was  nothing  here  of  that  dead  tint  of 
cold  tliat  lay  on  the  surrounding  hills ;  then  she  saw 
nature's  smile,  the  golden  sunshine,  light  up  the 
mountain's  peak  and  glittering  heart. 

She  looked  around  once  more.  In  the  east  the 
furthest  hills  were  merely  fringed  with  the  same 
light,  all  else  was  dull  and,  by  comparison,  grey. 
She  turned  again  to  the  vision  that  her  heart  loved ; 
in  some  way  it  gladdened  her  and  saddened  her  at 
once.  It  filled  her  with  a  strange  excitement ;  its 
mere  height  seemed  to  reveal  a  depth  within  herself 
which  she  had  never  seen  before. 

What  did  it  mean  ?  She  found  herself  struggling 
with  the  belief  that  it  meant  something  to  her,  just  as 
words  spoken  from  another  mind  to  hers  would  have 
had  meaning. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


57 


She  began  to  fight  against  tliis  impression.  She 
had  seen  nionntains  before ;  they  had  had  no  mean- 
ing for  her.  Scene  after  scene  among  the  Alps  oc- 
curred to  her  mind.  The  pure  gracious  outline  of 
tlieir  heights  had  made  no  great  impression  upon 
her,  yet  now,  as  her  memory  dwelt  upon  them,  she 
began  to  think  they  also  had  spoken.  She  had  been 
deaf,  but  they  had  spoken  ;  this  mountain  was  now 
speaking,  and  she  was  awaking  from  her  deafness. 

She  grew  confused ;  she  could  not  understand 
herself.  Sometimes,  not  often,  she  had  heard  music 
which  had  given  her  a  sense  of  lieart-sick  longing 
which  was  something  akin  to  what  she  now  felt. 
She  had  never  had  any  other  impulse  than  to  extin- 
guish such  unreasoning  emotion  in  herself  by  plung- 
iiiir  into  other  interests.  She  looked  about  her  now 
for  some  form  of  practical  activity  which  would  put 
an  end  to  the  strained  exaltation  of  heart  which  al- 
most frightened  her. 

The  sledge  track  by  which  she  had  come  crossed 
the  raihvay  and  descended  the  embai  kment  by  a 
curve.  The  river  was  not  very  wdde  ;  a  rough  bridge 
of  loi^s  was  built  across  it.  The  sledge  track  went  on, 
and  was  lost  to  view  in  the  opposite  forest.  Were 
the  bridge  and  the  road  signs  that  more  than  one 
settlement  must  lie  within  reach  ?  or  had  they  been 
made  by  railway  navvies,  who,  their  work  finished, 
could  not  be  expected  to  remain  in  this  inclement 


r' 


t 


58 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


region  during  the  winter?  ller  only  means  of  an- 
swering these  (luestions  was  to  follow  the  road  and 
see  whither  it  led. 

Yet  for  a  moment  she  lingered,  turning  again 
with  the  rebound  of  relief  to  the  beauty  of  the  moun- 
tain. She  stood  looking  up,  and  again  while  she  so 
looked  her  mind  was  lifted  out  of  the  immediate  de- 
tails of  her  own  peril.  Above  the  tree-line  the  snows 
and  icy  crags  rose  slope  above  slope,  blue  at  first  and 
cold,  then  white  and  dazzling,  all  the  lines  and  curves 
reaching  upward.  It  did  not  make  her  sad  ;  it  made 
her  joyful.  The  mountain's  word  was  like  a  new 
music,  not  the  tender  strains  that  had  heretofore  been 
the  only  music  that  had  appealed  to  her,  making  her 
sad,  but  a  severe  grand  strain,  to  which  before  this 
she  had  been  deaf,  which  she  did  not  even  now 
understand ;  but  she  knew  this  much,  that  it  was  full 
of  joy. 

She  must  go,  she  dared  not  linger,  and  the  sense 
of  the  vast  joy  of  which  the  mountain  was  singing 
made  h3r  stronger.  She  crossed  the  railway  and 
went  down  to  the  river.  Slie  ran  across  the  bridge 
of  logs,  fearful  lest  the  glimpses  of  the  black  swirl- 
ing water  seen  between  their  cracks  should  make  her 
balance  unsteady.  She  passed  on  where  the  track 
was  uneven  among  the  rocks  of  the  river  bank.  The 
shades  of  the  forest  were  very  dark.  It  seemed  to 
her  that  it  might  be  a  covert  for  beasts  or  savage 


ii 


THE  MADONNA   OP  A  DAY. 


59 


men.  She  had  hastened,  so  that  it  had  taken  her  but 
a  few  minutes  to  reach  the  confines  of  its  massive 
uiftles. 

She  turned  again  and  looked  at  the  mountain,  as 
tlie  Greeks  represent  their  dying  ones  to  have  looked 
at  the  sun  before  entering  the  shadow  of  the  other 
world.  The  light  was  beginning  to  touch  the  tops  of 
the  other  hills  ;  they  too,  pure  and  white,  pointed 
upwards,  and  the  great  peak  rose  colossal  and  glitter- 
ing, as  it  seemed,  into  the  very  sky. 

The  meaning  came  to  her  now — a  flash  of  thought 
that  seemed  like  sunrise  in  her  soul.  The  mountain 
sang  of  an  inspiration  toward  an  impossible  perfec- 
tion, the  struggle  for  which  was  the  joy,  the  only  joy, 
of  the  universe. 

This  meaning  came  to  her  in  knowledge  which 
ignored  the  use  of  words,  u^cause  it  transcended 
them.  The  strange  thing  was  that  to  this  sincere 
good-natured  little  woman  the  mountain's  music  told 
of  an  ideal  that  was  to  her  absolutely  new. 

She  had  striven  with  pertinacity  for  what  had 
seemed  to  her  noblest  in  life,  yet  now  she  saw  herself 
as  a  child,  who  with  innocent  unconsciousness  has 
been  enjoying  a  play  in  a  dirty  place,  will  sometimes 
suddenly  perceive  the  filthiness  its  raiment  when 
it  rises  to  meet  its  mother's  embrace.  Ah,  if  the  past 
had  only  been  a  striving  for  something  absolutely 
noble !    It  seemed  to  her  that  all  her  ideals  had  been 


i 


» ) 


TIIK  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


nil 


relative,  only  comparatively  good.  She  was  sur- 
rounded by  unknown  perils;  she  might  not  live 
much  longer,  and  the  past,  even  the  noblest  of  it. 
seemed  sordid  and  trivial. 

It  is  always  to  be  observed  that  when  human 
skill  tries  to  deal  with  human  penitence,  it  does  so 
by  painting  the  sin  blacker  and  again  more  black, 
and  endeavouring  to  increase  the  tears  of  the  soul. 
When  we  come  near  to  God,  Controller  of  forces 
physical  and  spiritual,  of  the  tempest,  of  incarnate 
devils,  and  of  the  springs  of  a  woman's  heart,  it  is 
never  so.  Penitence  is  met  with  instant  encourage- 
ment. There  is  no  accusation ;  there  is  the  wisdom 
that  is  given  without  upbraiding;  there  is  the  com- 
mand of  perfect  hope — "  Go,  sin  no  more." 

As  the  girl  turned  into  the  dark  pathway  of  the 
forest,  it  occurred  to  her  as  a  strange  reminiscence 
that  heretofore  her  highest  ambition  had  been  to  be 
true  to  herself,  to  develop  her  own  life  to  its  utmost 
as  to  pleasure  and  utility.  Now  that  for  some 
moments  she  had  worshipped  something — she  knew 
not  what — she  felt  with  a  new  hope  that  she  would 
aspire  to  a  standard  other  than  this  and  higher.  In 
the  hour  of  penitence  we  have  a  very  clear  insight 
into  reality,  but  that  which  we  see  instinctively  can- 
not quickly  be  translated  into  reasoned  thought,  and 
is  still  more  slow  in  finding  its  expression  in  action. 


CHAPTEE  YII. 


The  trees  of  this  forest  were  of  a  giant  race; 
tlieir  great  trunks  arose  in  dense  shade  from  the 
ground.  There  was  no  underbrush,  but  in  the  case 
uf  the  cedars,  their  brandies,  when  tliey  could  obtain 
ruoni,  dipped  almost  to  the  ground,  outspreading  in 
curving  fans.  The  upper  branches  were  so  high  that 
Mary  could  not  easily  look  at  them ;  they  seemed  to 
1)0  disposed  in  and  out  of  one  another  in  immense 
shelves  of  shade,  rising  layer  above  layer.  It  was 
with  the  trunks,  and  with  the  ground  beneath  them, 
that  her  eye  grew  more  familiar.  The  cedars  and  the 
lirs  had  dull  red  tints  upon  them.  Sometimes  a 
branch,  or  a  whole  tree,  of  cedar  was  dead,  and  had 
turned  the  dull  hue  of  red  that  one  sees  in  dead 
bracken.  The  ground  was  covered  with  snow  that 
had  powdered  through  the  branches.  It  did  not  look 
like  the  outer  snow ;  its  crystals  told  the  tale  of  its 
sifting.  Covered  by  it  lay  the  forms  of  huge  moss- 
i,n*o\vn  logs,  lying  often  under  the  very  roots  of  the 
trees  now  standing.  The  living  trees  had  been  sown 
upon  their  fallen  progenitors. 


5 


62 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Tliroiigli  this  forest  a  little  road  ran,  so  narrow 
by  comparison  witli  the  height  of  its  arching  roof 
that  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  the  diligence  of  pigmies 
that  had  removed  all  obstacles  from  it.  The  snow- 
carpet  here  w^as  marked  with  the  track  of  the  horse 
and  sledge,  just  as  in  the  open  ;  but  these  tracks  now 
seemed  almost  such  as  a  little  bird  might  have  made, 
60  dwarfed  did  any  sign  of  human  life  appear.  It 
seemed  to  Mary  that  the  trees  looked  down  upon  her, 
and  saw  a  little  creature  dressed  in  clinging  skirts, 
travelling  as  fast  as  her  strength  would  perr^it — 
slowly  at  that — and  that  they  spoke  to  one  another, 
saying  how^  weak  and  insignificant  she  was,  and  that 
she  was  going  forw^ard  amid  great  dangers,  and  that, 
unless  there  was  a  God  in  the  world,  she  had  no  one 
to  protect  her. 

There  had  always  been  some  poetic  sense  within 
her,  and  being  thus  cast,  with  fever  in  her  blood,  into 
the  arms  of  so  strange  a  phase  of  nature,  this  part  of 
her  spoke  loud  for  the  first  time.  It  was  not  for 
long.  It  is  not  according  to  the  law  which  growth 
of  character  obeys  that  new  thoughts,  new  feelings, 
spiritual  or  poetical,  should  abide  with  us.  It  is  not 
until  they  are  old  thoughts,  old  feelings,  that  they 
abide.  Our  first  glimpses  of  them  are  very  transient; 
their  impress  remains,  but  they  pass  as  if  they  had 
left  no  impress,  and  the  laws  which  govern  circum- 
stance no  sooner  touch  us  into  finer  feeling  than  they 


w-i 


THE  MADONNA   OF  A  DAY. 


63 


jostle  lis  with  tliat  wliicli  is  most  mundane.  There  is 
evidently  something  wholesome  in  the  transition. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mary  began  to  feel  that 
physical  ill  was  fastening  upon  her.  Her  head 
throbbed  :  she  felt  that,  in  spite  of  the  cold  air,  her 
cheeks  were  burning  ;  she  felt  the  lassitude  of  illness 
in  every  limb. 

This  was  before  she  had  walked  very  far,  and  she 
supposed  that  her  life  depended  upon  her  going 
much  further.  The  grey  and  red  squirrels  that  leapt 
among  the  branches,  the  crows  cawing  in  gaps  that 
opened  to  the  sky  far  above  her  head,  might  live  in 
the  forest,  but  she  could  not. 

To  her  great  relief  she  began  to  see  signs  of  an 
opening  in  the  trees ;  there  was  light  farther  on,  and 
soon  she  could  discern,  through  the  long  avenue 
which  the  road  made,  an  arch  which  appeared  to  be 
the  end  of  the  wood. 

It  was  just  when  she  had  seen  this  that  she  began 
to  hear  a  sound  behind  her.  Gradually  she  distin- 
guished the  jingling  sound  made  by  the  harness  of  a 
horse  attached  to  a  sledge.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
stop  and  lean  against  a  tree,  waiting  to  implore  the 
friendly  aid  of  whoever  might  be  driving  that  way. 
Then  came  the  swift  and  painful  recollection  that 
that  road  led  only  from  the  house  which  she  had  left. 

Incapable  of  moving  faster,  she  pressed  steadily 
on  towards  the  opening  of  the  forest.     There  must 


i 


I  1  » 

i 


\ 


C4 


THE  MADOXNA  OF  A  DAY. 


be  some  lioiise  in  the  clearing ;  she  was  filled  with  a 
frantic  desire  to  reach  it  before  the  sledge  from  the 
farm  in  the  notch  could  come  near  her.  Yet  as  in  a 
dream,  her  feet  were  heavy,  and  would  only  move 
slowly.  The  road  curved  behind  her,  so  that  she 
could  not  see  the  sledge,  but  in  the  dense  stillness  she 
could  liear  the  horse's  hoofs  in  the  snow. 

The  sledge  came  on  at  the  steady  natural  pace  of 
the  horse,  apparently  without  interference  from  the 
driver.  Mary  gained  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  still 
the  slednje  was  behind  her. 

Before  her  was  a  1  "ge  clearing.  The  trees,  prob- 
ably a  special  sort  of  timber,  had  evidently  been 
felled  and  used  for  some  ])urpose  sucli  as  the  building 
of  the  railway.  There  was  the  sound  to  one  side  of  a 
stream  rushing,  and  in  the  same  direction  several  log 
houses  and  wooden  slieds.  There  was  no  fence  or 
enclosure  of  any  kind.  The  road  led  on  to  the  huts. 
Mary  went  towards  them  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion. She  felt  certain  that  in  some  one  of  them  there 
must  be  a  kindly  woman  to  whom  she  could  tell  her 
story,  and  yet  they  looked  strangely  desolate. 

Before  she  reached  the  huts,  the  horse  which  was 
drawing  the  sledge  came  up  close  behind  her  on  the 
narrow  track.  It  slackened  speed  and  followed  her; 
she  heard  no  voice.  She  stood  aside  in  the  snow; 
she  looked  at  the  sledge.  So  strange  was  her  mood 
and  the  circumstance,  that  to  be  calm  was  little  effort 


THE  iAFADONXA  OF  A   DAY. 


6 


0 


to  lier.  Across  the  sledge  and  be3'oiid  the  wood  she 
saw  the  mountains  and  the  majestic  glittering  peak. 
The  sense  of  exaltation  this  brought  her,  the  fever 
that  was  upon  her,  and  the  instinctive  self-efl'acement 
which  her  late  acting  had  taught  her,  joined  together 
to  give  the  rounded  outline  of  her  girlish  face  an 
almost  unearthly  grace. 

The  one  man  who  stood  upon  the  sledge  had  no 
demonstrative  nature,  and  yet  he  looked  upon  her 
with  renewed  bewilderment.  The  man  was  Hamil- 
ton. He  stood  upright  upon  the  low,  flat,  unpainted 
sledge,  holding  the  reins  of  the  small  shaggy  horse 
which  he  drove.  The  horse  had  been  checked  by  a 
touch  when  Mary  had  swerved  aside.  Horse  and 
man  stood  motionless,  and  even  the  beast  turned  its 
head  and  looked  her  full  in  the  face. 

The  girl  had  counted  upon  the  sledge  passing 
while  she  paused  ;  moment  by  moment  passed,  and 
she  saw  no  ending  to  this  silent  interview. 

At  last  the  man  said,  "Where  are  you  going? 
AVhy  did  you  leave  me  ?  "  Ilis  was  not  merely  a  dar- 
ing and  imperious  face,  but  it  was  a  bad  face,  although 
just  now  there  was  no  thought  or  feeling  expressed 
there  that  a  good  man  might  not  have  thought  and 
felt.  In  sjnte  of  himself,  his  voice  trembled  as  a  true 
lover's  might.  lie  seemed  surprised  by  this,  knit  his 
brows  and  stopped  speaking.  Then  lie  said  again, 
''  I  only  let  you  go  away  in  order  that  I  might  tell  the 


I 


..f-.- 


QQ 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  T  VY. 


boys  that  you  were  gone.  I  knew  that  I  could  follow 
you  wherever  you  went.  I  saw  the  track  of  your 
feet  upon  the  road.  There  is  no  place  anywhere  in 
this  region  where  I  cannot  follow  you."  When  he 
spoke  of  his  fellows,  his  tone  had  for  the  moment 
been  haughty,  but  for  the  rest  it  was  mild,  with  an 
effort  at  pleasing. 

She  did  not  speak  to  him  ;  she  could  not,  even  if 
she  had  desired.  As  it  seemed  that  he  would  not 
pass  her,  she  quietly  went  on  before  the  horse  to  the 
log  houses. 

She  was  considering  in  her  mind  why  it  was  that 
she  could  not  get  out  of  his  power.  Did  he  know 
that  these  houses  were  empty,  or  that  the  people  in 
them  were  powerless  to  protect  her  ?  Surely  not,  for 
she  saw  smoke  issuing  from  the  chimneys,  and  she 
heard  the  sound  of  a  good  many  voices  within. 

When  they  reached  a  space  that  was  cleared  of 
snow  in  front  of  the  principal  log  building,  Hamilton 
left  his  sledge  and  came  up  beside  her,  looking  at  her 
progress  in  the  direction  of  the  door  with  great 
curiosity. 

"  "Why  are  you  going  in  here  ? "  he  asked. 
"  Where  have  you  come  from  ?  What  errand  can 
you  have  here  ? " 

It  seemed  as  if  he  spoke  by  way  of  relief  to  his 
own  mind,  for  he  had  apparently  ceased  to  expect 
her  to  answer. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


67 


I  ( 
I 


Ilis  tone  inspired  lier  with  greater  curiosity  as  to 
what  she  should  see  within,  but  not  with  greater 
liope.  She  knocked  at  the  door,  and  he  stood  aside 
watching  her  keenly. 

The  sound  of  voices  within  continued  monoto- 
nously, but  in  a  minute  the  door  was  opened.  In  the 
minute  that  she  had  been  kept  waiting  the  continued 
gaze  of  Hamilton's  eyes  had  become  so  repulsive  to 
her  that  in  sheer  fear  of  him  she  stepped  across  the 
threshold  as  soon  as  the  door  gave  to  her  gentle 
pressure. 

The  scene  she  saw  seemed  at  first  like  the  passing 
dream  of  a  fevered  brain.  The  interior,  dark  by 
reason  of  frost  upon  the  small  window-panes,  was 
furnished  in  a  manner  far  more  rude  and  foreign 
than  the  house  from  which  she  had  come,  and  in  it 
sat  a  large  circle  of  men — grotesque,  ugly  figures ; 
most  of  them  were  squatting  in  a  circle  round  a  low 
table,  playing  at  some  game  with  dice.  When  her 
thought  cleared  after  a  moment,  she  perceived  they 
were  Chinamen. 

It  seemed  that,  in  their  taciturn  indifference,  they 
had  not  proposed  to  turn  from  their  game  because 
their  door  had  been  opened  to  admit  a  stranger,  but 
after  a  moment  some  quiet  word  or  sign  seemed  to 
pass  from  one  to  another.  They  turned,  they  looked, 
they  rose  and  stood  about  her.  The  best  evidence 
of  their  surprise  was  perhaps  that  they  did  not  ask 


If 


68 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


why  she  liad  come.  There  was  a  minute's  silence 
while  they  crowded  behind  one  another  to  look  at 
her  more  closely.  Then  they  grinned  at  her,  making, 
as  it  seemed  to  her,  horrid  grimaces ;  yet  perhaps  it 
was  a  natural  smile  of  welcome  to  a  vision  which  in 
the  foul  reek  and  gloom  of  this  hut  seemed  more 
than  ever  beautiful  and  pure. 

Sickened  as  she  was  by  the  smoke  and  smell  and 
her  loathing  of  the  men,  whose  grins  appeared  to  her 
insulting,  she  still  searched  with  her  eyes  every  cor- 
ner of  the  dark  interior,  for  the  impulse  was  strong 
upon  her  to  look  for  the  friendly  face  of  some 
woman ;  but  none  was  to  be  seen.  She  remembered 
now  that  she  had  heard  that  Chinese  navvies  had 
been  employed  upon  the  roads  in  this  country.  She 
knew  enough  to  know  that  the  Chinese  do  not  take 
their  women  with  them  to  foreign  lands.  A  mo- 
ment's thought  told  her  that  here  for  her  there  was 
no  hope. 

She  became  conscious  that  Hamilton  was  standing 
in  the  doorway  behind  her,  that  the  Chinamen  were 
beginning  to  look  to  liim  as  the  one  apparently  who 
knew  the  answer  to  the  riddle  of  her  presence.  She 
shook  her  head,  as  if  to  show  that  she  had  missed 
her  way,  and  went  out  again  into  the  bleak  air  of 
the  morning. 

Her  heart  so  sank  with  the  disappointment  that 
she  could  have  wept,  although  she  was  not  a  woman 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


69 


(^\\'GH  to  tears.  Wliere  could  she  go  now?  She 
lifted  up  her  eyes  and  looked.  On  all  sides  of  the 
clearing  was  the  forest ;  on  all  sides  of  the  forest,  the 
mountains.  The  grey  cold  as  of  the  unborn  day 
was  still  upon  all  the  valley  and  the  eastern  heights. 
The  only  sight  that  brought  her  the  slightest  comfort 
was  the  golden  glory  of  the  peaks  upon  the  other 
side,  the  highest  mountain  rising  among  them ;  but 
the  thouglit  of  hope  and  light  which  they  forced 
upon  her  was  not  of  an  earthly  and  temporal  sort;  it 
merely  lay  passive  in  her  mind  together  with  the 
realization  of  her  present  hapless  case. 

While  she  had  stopped  bewildered,  all  the  China- 
men from  the  hut  and  from  tlie  log  houses  came  out, 
and  now  they  stood  around  her  again.  There  was 
no  awe  upon  their  faces ;  they  grinned  ;  they  talked 
to  one  another.  No  doubt  to  them,  in  the  midst  of 
a  foreign  land,  her  advent  and  appearance  did  not 
seem  beyond  the  range  of  explicable  things.  Tliey 
were  interested  and  curious.  They  seemed  to  know 
Hamilton  well,  and  spoke  to  him ;  but  he  did  not 
answer,  only  continued  to  look  with  interested  curi- 
osity to  see  what  dealings  she  miglu  ave  with  them, 
or  they  with  her. 

A  minute  more  and  tlr  Chinamen  had  arrived 
at  an  explanation.  Their  English  was  meagre,  but 
with  polite  laughter  they  spoke  enough  of  it  to  make 
tlioir  thought  clear. 


t   >  i 

j  i 

i  ; 

I  i 


i 


ro 


THE  MADONXA  OF  A   DAY. 


"  Hamilton  gotce  wifee.  Ilim  showee  wifoe." 
Hysterical  laughter  fought  within  her  with  the 
desire  for  tears.  She  betrayed  neither,  but  the  self- 
repression  resulted  in  a  trembling  of  her  whole  frame, 
60  that  she  felt  that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  some 
pitiful  attack  of  extreme  weakness.  Looking  as 
though  she  had  not  understood,  she  walked  feebly 
away  by  the  only  road. 

She  heard  Hamilton's  word  of  command  to  his 
horse.  The  sound  of  hoofs  in  the  snow  and  the 
jingling  of  the  harness  followed  close  behind  her. 


■^IBfc*. 


CIIAPTEE  Till. 


Mary  began  to  wonder  to  herself  how  it  would 
have  been  with  her  if  she  had  entered  the  settlement 
of  the  Chinese  navvies  without  Hamilton  for  her 
guard.  She  thought  of  her  money  and  the  jewel 
that  now  also  lay  in  her  bosom.  An  awful  picture 
of  her  own  murdered  body  being  hidden  in  the 
ground  by  these  grinning  heathen  rose  before  her 
fevered  brain.  In  this  last  adventure  she  was  forced 
to  believe  that  this  man  Hamilton  had  proved  a 
friend. 

He  must  needs  yet  prove  a  friend  to  her  if  there 
was  to  be  any  peaceful  ending  to  her  present  state 
of  wretchedness,  for,  as  she  came  again  to  tlie  place 
where  the  only  track  upon  the  snow  turned  back  to- 
wards the  forest,  she  realized  that  there  was  no  other 
human  dwelling  within  her  reach,  and  her  strength 
had  wholly  failed  her. 

Her  mind  still  grasped  the  idea  that  perfect  noble- 
ness of  character  would  alone  be  sacred  to  this  man, 
and  that  perfect  nobility  implied  the  power  to  trust. 
She  had  never  been  taught  this,  and  yet  she  assumed 


! 


. 


r-  '  i': 


72 


TOE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


it.  Strong  she  could  not  appear,  or  free  from  the 
petty  ills  of  disease  and  helplessness,  but  it  was  possi- 
ble to  appear  to  trust  absolutely  all  the  good  that  was 
in  him ;  and  whatever  bctided,  it  might  be  possible 
to  endure  without  betraying  im])atience  or  any  weak 
apprehension.  She  had  but  a  moment  in  which  to 
act;  her  limbs  were  failing  beneath  her,  her  brain 
was  almost  incapable  of  thought. 

She  turned,  and  again  made  room  for  the  horse  to 
pass.  She  made  a  gesture  that  slie  required  to  rest 
upon  the  sledge. 

The  man  had  made  his  own  provision  for  this. 
A  bundle  that  was  lying  before  him  upon  the  bare 
sledge  proved  to  contain  such  pillows  and  blankets  as 
lie  might  have  taken  from  his  own  bed.  The  sledge 
was  a  small  level  platform,  except  that,  in  front, 
where  it  might  need  to  breast  the  snow,  it  inclined 
upward.  Upon  the  incline  he  bestowed  the  pillows 
with  hasty  action.  She  rested  upon  the  blanket,  and 
was  thankful  to  lay  her  head  down  upon  the  pillows, 
although  they  were  but  sacks  of  straw.  The  moment 
she  laid  down  her  head  she  seemed  to  lose  the  power 
to  raise  it  ajjain.  lie  covered  her  with  the  bearskin 
in  which  the  bundle  had  been  rolled.  lie  stood  as 
he  had  stood  before,  upright  at  the  back  of  the 
sledge,  and  drove  on.  In  this  way  they  went  back 
through  that  part  of  the  forest  through  which  they 
had  come. 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


73 


Slic  knew  tliat  licr  streiigtli  had  gone,  that  she 
was  tlie  prey  of  some  acute  illness  produced  by  the 
chill  of  tlie  precediui^  night.  She  tried  to  think  what 
slie  ought  to  do  next,  while  she  retained  the  power  to 
tliiuk. 

ller  mind  with  eagerness  considered  the  occu- 
pants of  the  railway  carriage  out  of  which  she  liad 
fallen  about  eight  hours  before.  It  was  now  at  such 
iui  hour  of  the  morning  that  her  fellow-travellers 
might  be  rising  from  tlicir  berths.  She  wondered 
how  long  they  would  leave  hers  close  curtained,  sup- 
posing her  to  be  sleeping  late.  It  was  clear  that  no 
one  had  known  of  lier  misadventure  at  the  time  it 
took  })lace.  llow  then  would  they  know  it  at  all 
until  they  sought  for  her  within  those  curtains? 
AVhon  they  did  know  lier  gone,  what  would  they 
tliink  ?  "What  would  they  do  ?  She  wished  now  that 
her  own  travelling  companion  had  been  a  more  affec- 
tionate, a  more  unselfish,  woman.  She  had  never 
missed  these  qualities  in  her  before.  She  had  been 
content  that  her  woman  friends  should  be  clever  and 
self-contained.  She  wondered  now  how  much  her 
late  companion  would  bestir  herself.  She  found  that 
she  could  not  easily  fancy  her  greatly  solicitous  or 
perturbed. 

It  would  be  impossible  for  those  in  the  train  to 
know  when  or  w4iere  she  had  left  it,  or  whether  or 
not  she  had  left  it  ol  lier  own  accord  at  one  of  the 


I 


74 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


several  night  stations.  Under  these  circumstances  it 
was  vain  to  hope  tliat  the  place  in  which  she  now  was 
would  he  the  place  chosen  for  innnediate  search.  No 
doubt  her  disappearance  would  be  telegra])hed  to  the 
different  stations  along  the  line ;  if  she  could  reach  a 
station  she  would  be  safe,  but  she  had  seen  no  road 
that  ran  parallel  with  the  railway,  and  she  was  con- 
vinced that  there  was  no  station  within  reasonable 
reach,  because  her  appearance  had  appeared  marvel- 
lous. 

There  were  minutes  when  her  bodily  state  seemed 
to  numb  the  natural  feehng  of  anxiety.  She  lay,  her 
cheek  upon  the  pillow  provided,  and  watched  the  huge 
trunks  of  the  forest  trees  as  they  glided  past  her.  She 
was  interested  to  see  the  effect  of  the  increasing  light 
in  the  great  gloomy  aisles  of  their  shade ;  for  the  shade 
was  less  now  than  it  had  been,  in  token  that  the  rays 
of  the  sun  were  descending  the  nearer  hills. 

Was  she  losing  her  reason  to  be  thus  idly  thinking 
of  the  beauty  of  this  forest?  With  an  effort  she 
brought  her  mind  back  to  the  question  of  whither  she 
was  being  taken,  and  for  what  end.  She  felt  the  little 
packet  of  gross  worldly  wealth  lying  heavy  upon  her 
breast.  Would  the  man  beside  her  be  influenced  by 
the  offer  of  a  bribe  or  payment,  or  would  it  be  safer 
not  to  let  him  know  that  she  had  money  ? 

She  turned  herself  slightly  so  that  she  could  look 
up  in  his  face.     It  was  there  that  she  must  read  her 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


76 


iinniediate  future.  It  was  partly  because  of  the  fever 
which  fijave  her  a  strange  sense  of  unreality,  that  she 
was  able  to  lie  quietly  and  look  up  at  him  as  a  child 
would  have  done. 

Fur  a  moment  he  returned  her  look  with  an  effort 
to  appear  at  ease ;  then  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  level 
of  his  horse,  made  some  sounds  which  belong  to  the 
driver's  language,  made  a  feint  of  rearranging  his  reins 
and  whip,  and,  relapsing  into  steady  self-control,  con- 
tinued to  look  at  the  road  in  front  and  drove  on 
steadily. 

Inwardly  the  girl  had  a  giddy  sensation  that  it  was 
all  passing  delusion.  As  in  a  dream,  she  had  the  curi- 
ous double  existence  of  actor  and  spectator  at  once ; 
she  being  in  spirit,  somewhere  apart  from  the  sledge, 
saw  herself  as  she  lay  apparently  at  ease  under  the  bear 
robe ;  she  saw  the  u])per  edge  of  the  fur  rise  and  fall 
with  the  movement  of  her  breath ;  she  saw  the  folds 
of  delicate  azure  swathed  about  her  head  and  shoulders ; 
she  saw  her  own  face,  and  marvelled  at  its  beauty  and 
sweetness  in  comparison  with  the  huge  roughness  of 
nature  and  the  uncouth  roughness  of  Jiumanity  in  all 
that  place.  She  saw  the  man  standing  almost  like  a 
statue  behind  her.  He  was  dressed  in  old  and  ragged 
furs ;  the  long  smooth  fur  of  raccoon  was  his  cap,  his 
coat  the  ancient  hide  of  a  buffalo,  legs  and  feet  were 
encased  in  moccasin  and  bound  with  thongs  of  the 
same.     An  untidy  dress  it  was,  hardly  clean.     The 


:  ! 


» 


. , '  I 


70 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


man  witliin  it  liad  a  fine  liaiiglity  bearing,  and  the  face 
tliat  looked  out  from  under  tlie  cap  would  have  been 
very  handsome  had  it  not  been  for  the  subtle  mark 
that  vice  had  set  upon  the  features.  It  was  a  face  that 
showed  not  only  the  ^^ower  to  control  others,  but  the 
power  of  self  control,  yet  not  for  any  good  end.  Com- 
paratively young,  and  as  it  seemed  now  in  health,  he 
looked  a.s  if  he  had  worked  through  all  dissipations, 
and  regained  health  only  by  change  of  vices,  llis  ex- 
pression was  not  alone  reckless,  but  bore  the  creeping 
shadow  of  low  brutality  and  cunning  which  the  hard- 
en! 1112:  habits  of  wickedness  involve.  In  this  curious 
survey,  she  looked  also  at  the  shaggy  horse.  Its 
humble  toilsome  manner  of  trotting  on  suggested  fear. 
She  saw  that,  slight  as  Hamilton's  motion  in  driving 
was,  it  was  a  cruel  twitch  which  he  often  gave  to  tlie 
creature's  mouth.  Then  she  looked  again  at  the 
gigantic  forest,  filled,  as  it  seemed  to  her,  with  myste- 
rious depths  and  shades  in  which  unknow  crimes 
could  be  prolonged  and  then  buried.  The  narrow 
road  led  through  its  heart  like  a  silver  thread.  On 
and  on  over  this  road  they  went,  the  pony,  tlie  rude 
wooden  sledge  carrying  the  recumbc.t  and  hapless 
lady,  and  the  man  standing  statue-like,  looking  before 
him  with  hard-set  enigmatical  gaze.  She  seemed  to 
stand  aside  and  see  it. 

At  length  they  came  out  from  under  the  trees ; 
tl  J  gii'l  felt  that  some  spell  was  broken.     She  was  in 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


77 


to 


Ill 


command  of  her  mind  once  more,  feeble,  sulfering, 
but  still  intelligent,  and  the  light  of  morning  was  on 
the  hills.  She  heard  the  river  rushing  through  the 
icy  grots  that  were  its  bank.  She  felt  the  sledge 
upon  the  rocks  and  then  upon  the  bridge. 

The  pony  began  to  ascend  the  steep  side  of  the 
railway  embankment.  Mary  thought  of  the  next 
thing  she  must  do.  When  the  sledge  had  balanced 
itself  upon  the  level  of  the  track,  she  rose  up,  sign- 
ing Hamilton  to  stop. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  checked  the  horse  of 
his  own  accord,  for  it  had  stopped  without  so  much 
as  crossing  the  railway.  Perhaps  there  was  hesita- 
tion in  his  mind  as  to  which  road  he  would  take. 

She  slipped  olf  the  sledge,  bracing  herself  to  the 
effort  of  standing.  She  essayed  to  speak,  but  the 
cold  had  taken  so  strange  a  hold  of  the  vocal  chords 
that  the  lowest  whisper  still  died  upon  her  lips. 

He  came  nearer,  bending  his  head  to  listen, 
courteously  enough,  but  she  felt  that  if  this  were 
the  result  of  her  effort  to  speak  she  would  make  no 
further  effort.  The  intense  curiosity  written  upon 
his  face  appeared  less  respectful  than  hie  former 
hard-set  expression.  Yet,  after  all,  it  was  a  glimpse 
to  her  of  the  main  attitude  of  his  mind  at  this 
point.  She  saw  that  within  it  curiosity  and  inde- 
cision held  sway. 

She  took  the  handle  of  the  whij)  out  of  his  hand, 
6 


Ml 


i  ! 


r. 


78 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


II 


and  traced  upon  the  snow  two  words :  "  Station 
where  ? " 

His  eyes  had  followed  her  lines.  When  she  had 
finished  he  gave  her  such  a  look  of  bold  piercing 
inquiry  as  last  night  he  had  bestowed  upon  her  be- 
fore he  fell  back  in  dismay.  He  even  tried  a  smile, 
as  if  of  mutual  intelligence,  but  when  she  still 
looked  grave,  innocent,  pleading,  something  of  the 
former  effect  was  produced,  for  he  drew  back  dis- 
concerted. He  made  as  if  to  take  the  whip  to  write, 
but  then,  to  test  her  hearing  first,  he  said,  "  You  are 
eight  miles  from  Hed  Keil,  the  nearest  station. 
Their  is  no  road  in  this  heavy  snow." 

She  answered  as  if  she  had  believed,  although  she 
knew  that  he  might  have  lied.  She  again  wrote  upon 
the  snow — 

"  I  fell  from  the  train  last  night.  Can  you  stop 
the  night  train  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  could  have  fallen  from 
the  cars,  but,  since  you  tell  me  you  did — "  (here  a 
slight,  as  it  seemed  mocking,  bow)  "  of  course  I  be- 
lieve you.  As  to  stopping  the  train,  it's  impossible 
liere — the  driver  would  not  have  time  to  slow  before 
he  was  round  the  next  curve.  The  train  going  west 
passes  after  ten  at  night,  and  the  other  after  mid- 
night." 

She  did  not  believe  tlmt  the  train  could  not  be 
stopped,  but  she  saw  that  nothing  out  artificial  ligltt 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


79 


would  serve  as  a  signal  of  distress.  She  could  not 
procure  this  alone ;  and  then  there  was  the  interven- 
inc:  time. 

"While  she  paused,  Hamilton  spoke  again.  What 
he  said  was,  "  Last  night  you  wore  a  diamond  upon 
your  hand  ;  w^hy  have  you  taken  it  off  ?  " 

Now,  in  the  night  time,  when  she  had  remem- 
bered she  was  wearing  this  ring,  she  had  taken 
it  off,  and  put  it  in  the  silken  purse  that  contained 
lier  money.  The  fact  that  he  asked  this  question, 
which  seemed  to  her  full  of  rude  greed  and  suspi- 
cion, filled  her  with  fear  that  he  did  not  believe  that 
she  had  fallen  by  accident,  or  that  she  was  there  by 
reason  of  misfortune.  She  looked  at  the  snow,  firm- 
packed  and  smooth-shaven  by  the  plough  of  the 
engine  between  the  iron  rails;  her  footsteps  of  last 
night  were  hardly  noticeable  upon  it.  She  showed 
tliem  to  him,  feeling  helplessly  that  they  did  not 
])rove  much. 

She  realized  now  that  during  the  long  drive  she 
liad  become  chilled,  nay,  she  felt  that  her  feet  and 
hands  might  freeze  as  she  stood.  Surely  this,  if 
nothing  else,  was  a  mortal  danger.  She  summoned 
all  the  strength  that  remained,  and  wrote  hastily 
upon  the  white  surface  at  her  feet — 

"  For  God's  sake  take  me  where  some  good 
woman  lives.     You  will  be— 


.  i 


?5 


She  was  going  to  say  "rewarded,"  but  she  re- 


80 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


membered  that  that  too  had  a  hollow  worldly  sound 
that  would,  as  it  were,  tarnish  the  white  vestment 
in  which  she  was  wrapped.  So  she  wrote — "glad 
afterwards." 

"  Yerj  sorry  to  disoblige  you,"  he  said,  "  but 
there  is  not  any  of  that  commodity  within  reach, 
present  company  always  excepted ;  but  I'll  do  what 
I  can  for  you.  I  am  going  up  a  road  here  on  busi- 
ness, and  if  you  stay  on  the  sledge  none  of  the  boys 
will  know  where  you  are.  If  you  attempt  to  go 
anywhere  by  yourself  they  will  see  the  trail,  and  I 
won't  be  answerable  for  the  consequences.  They're 
a  low  set  at  this  digging." 

Then  she  felt  his  arm  supporting  her,  and  she 
had  not  the  power  to  shrink  from  it.  With  his  help 
che  crept  back  upon  the  sledge. 


caui 

she 

bnt 

its 


CHAPTEE  IX. 


Hamilton  began  giving  commands  to  his  horse  in 
a  tone  low  but  savage.  He  jerked  its  head  brutally. 
The  sledge  was  drawn  across  the  rails,  and  turned 
toward  the  rocky  and  tree-clad  side  of  the  notch. 
There  was,  it  was  true,  only  one  track  in  the  snow,  but 
beneath  the  snow,  which  lay  about  seven  inches  in 
depth,  there  was  evidently  another  road  with  which 
the  horse  and  man  were  both  familiar.  Diverging  at 
right  angles  from  the  former  track,  they  began  to 
ascend  almost  at  once.  Hamilton  plodded  by  the 
horse's  head.  It  soon  appeared,  by  the  sound,  that  as 
they  climbed  they  approached  the  torrent  that  de- 
scended the  hillside,  although  their  path  had  avoided 
the  quarry  or  digging  at  its  base. 

The  jolting  of  the  sledge  on  the  rocky  road 
caused  Mary  such  acute  pain  in  head  and  back  that 
she  was  forced  to  lie  still  upon  her  place  of  rest; 
but  lipr  mind  was  filled  with  a  rush  of  new  alarms. 
Where,  in  this  almost  inaccessible  home  of  the  spir- 
its of  the  forost,  could  he  possibly  be  tak'ng  her? 

81 


1 


82 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Where  the  road  led  beneath  high  trees  and  between 
enormous  rocks,  she  could  see  its  outline  running  on 
in  front,  constantly  rising ;  then  it  was  lost  to  sight 
hj  turning.  It  required  in  her  the  utmost  effort  of 
faith  in  the  sanity  of  the  man  who  was  driving  to  be- 
lieve that  there  could  be  any  shelter  towards  which 
they  were  now  going;  yet  if  he  were  not  mad  he 
must  have  chosen  this  difficult  path  because  of  some 
such  shelter. 

Of  one  thing  she  was  now  convinced,  that  her 
best  chance  of  life  lay  in  crouching  under  the  cover 
he  had  provided  and  accepting  what  shelter  he  was 
about  to  offer.  Shelter  she  must  have  till  night 
came.  Giddy  and  shivering  and  in  acute  pain,  she 
lay  back,  only  able  to  keep  her  eyes  open  and  list- 
lessly note  the  trees  and  the  snow-covered  rocks 
as  they  crept  past  them  ;  and  now  and  then  her 
glance  rested  upon  glimpses  of  the  torrent  as  it 
leaped,  above  and  beneath,  among  vast  palaces  of 
icicles. 

She  became  conscious  at  last  that  some  ameliorat- 
ing influence  was  making  impression  upon  her  and 
upon  the  locality  around.  She  did  not  know  at  first 
what  it  was,  but  she  felt  more  hopeful ;  the  whole 
scene  was  less  cold  and  dreary.  The  waterfall,  when 
she  saw  it,  so  dazzled  her  aching  eyes  that  she  must 
turn  away  ;  then  she  knew  that  they  had  met  the 
sunrise  upon  the  hill. 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


83 


Shortly  after  this  she  began  to  perceive  that  the 
snow  around  was  not  unbroken,  that  other  paths  had 
been  trodden  here  and  there.  She  heard  the  sound 
of  an  axe  chopping  and  she  gathered  all  her  faculties 
together  in  hope,  raising  herself  to  a  sitting  posture, 
looking  and  listening. 

A  very  old  man — who  had  been  felling  trees — 
came  and  stood  at  the  side  of  the  sledge.  lie  might 
easily  have  been  a  spirit  of  the  mountain  or  of  the 
forest ;  old  and  bowed  and  unkempt  he  looked,  and 
yet  withal  very  strong  and  sinewy.  He  wore  a  red 
shirt — or,  it  seemed,  several  red  shirts — above  his 
buckskin  trousers.  He  stood  and  looked  at  the 
visitors  with  clear,  healthy  blue  eyes  from  under 
bushy  eyebrows. 

Almost  at  once  another  old  man  appeared,  younger 
perhaps  by  ten  years  and  of  a  different  type  of  man- 
hood, but  still  old,  long-bearded,  long-haired,  and 
dressed  much  in  the  same  way  as  his  fellow.  He, 
too,  came  and  stood  and  looked. 

Hamilton  stopped  the  sledge.  Standing  before 
the  two  old  men,  he  looked  like  the  very  personifica- 
tion of  the  strength  and  force  of  manhood  in  its 
prime.  Around  them  stood  giant  fir  trees ;  logs  lay 
on  the  white  ground.  The  air  was  full  of  the  sound 
of  the  stream  falling. 

"  I  am  going  on  up  to  Wilson's."  This  was  what 
Hamilton  said. 


84 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


The  older  man  looked  at  Mary.  At  last  one  of 
tliem  said  slowly — 

"  What  d'you  want  there  ?  " 

They  both  continued  to  look  at  Mary.  Hamilton 
said : 

"  I  want  the  shacks  you're  living  in.  You  can 
turn  into  the  other."  It  seemed  from  his  voice  as  if 
he  were  granting  a  permission. 

The  old  man  who  had  first  come  in  sight  now 
hazarded  a  question — 

"  Where'd  you  get  the  loddy  ?  " 

The  answer  came  as  if  to  utter  it  with  emphasis 
was  a  relief  to  Hamilton.     "  Blest  if  I  know." 

There  came  what  might  have  been  a  smile  in  this 
old  man's  bright  blue  eyes,  from  which  the  lower  eye- 
lids fell  with  a  slight  enlarging  droop,  as  is  often  the 
case  in  age.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  smile  in  the 
long  bushy  hair  that  covered  his  mouth  ;  he  only  said, 
in  clear  high  tones — 

"  Then  I'll  be  bound  yer  don't  know,  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton." 

Hamilton  expressed  no  interest  in  this  criticism 
of  his  character.  He  spoke  with  hard  command  in 
his  voice — 

*'  See  here,  the  lady's  in  my  care.  She's  ill ;  I'm 
going  to  take  her  up  to  Wilson's  to  get  well.  At 
least,  she'll  have  the  sun  on  her  there,  instead  of  the 
infernal  shadow  half  the  day.      Kow  listen !     The 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY.. 


85 


boys  up  at  my  place  don't  know  where  the  lady  is, 
and  I  don't  want  them  to  know.  D'you  under- 
stand ? " 

"  Amen,"  replied  the  blue-eyed  old  man  glibly,  in 
the  same  high  clear  tone.  The  clearness  of  his  tone 
seemed  in  some  way  related  to  the  clearness  of  his 
blue  eyes. 

Both  men  seemed,  in  their  aged  way,  to  take  the 
stand  of  artists  in  regard  to  life,  for  although  they 
looked  with  steady  interest  at  the  man  and  girl,  espe- 
cially at  the  latter,  they  did  not  appear  to  form  any 
opinion  as  to  what  ought  or  ought  not  to  be  done 
with  her.  There  was  no  hint  of  any  moral  obligation, 
of  any  possibility  of  the  passions  of  indignation  or 
praise,  in  their  aged  faces.  The  girl,  looking  at  them 
with  the  quickness  of  fevered  vision,  perceived  that 
appeal  was  useless.  Even  if  they  had  had  the  power 
to  take  her  from  Hamilton's  custody,  it  did  not  appear 
to  her  that  they  would  trouble  themselves  to  supply 
her  needs  or  to  save  her  life.  She  began  to  perceive 
now  that  what  she  required  of  other  human  beings 
was  not  only  that  they  should  not  molest  her,  but 
tliat  they  should  bestir  themselves  to  save  her  life. 
These  old  men  would  not  do  this.  Perhaps  Hamilton 
would. 

With  the  jerk  which  the  sledge  made  when  it  be- 
gan to  move  forward,  her  head  fell  agun  upon  the 
pillow.    Again  the  road  wound  up  the  southern  end 


86 


THE  MADOXNA  OF  A  DAY. 


of  tho  hill ;  again  she  watched  the  ice-bound  rocks  and 
Btill  undulations  of  the  snow  with  aching  eyes.  Con- 
cerning the  place  whither  she  was  going  all  she  knew 
was  that  Hamilton  had  said  there  was  no  woman 
there ;  her  longing  to  see  the  face  of  some  common- 
place worthy  woman  was  so  great  that  she  would  have 
exchanged  all  her  worldly  wealth  for  the  privilege. 

She  thought  a  little  about  herself,  the  self  who  had 
always  been  business-like,  quick  of  resource,  able  to 
arrange  and  command,  to  bend  men  and  circumstances 
to  her  will.  She  had  a  sense  almost  of  imbecility  in 
being  in  a  position  where  her  usual  resources  were,  as 
it  were,  a  minus  quantity,  for  any  display  of  lively 
understanding  would  only  sharpen  this  man's  wits  and 
harden  his  heart. 

For  about  half  an  hour  longer  she  was  drawn  slow- 
ly up  the  mountain-side  in  the  brilliant  sunshine. 
There  was  only  a  gigantic  fir  tree  here  and  there  to 
cast  its  shadow.  At  length  they  came  out  upon  the 
side  of  a  small  plain  ;  from  this  opening  the  mountains 
to  the  east  were  seen.  They  went  on  skirting  the  edge 
of  the  small  plateau,  and  came  where  the  sound  of  the 
torrent  was  very  loud  ;  just  above  them  the  water 
leaped  from  a  ledge  of  snow  and  ice,  and  fell  upon  a 
cone  of  ice  far  below.  Close  by  this  leap  of  the  water 
stood  three  small  log  huts.  She  saw  against  the  clear 
blue  of  the  sky  that  there  was  smoke  rising  from  one 
chimney.     She  looked  around  and  saw  the  snow  trod- 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


87 


den.  She  understood  that  this  was  the  home  of  the 
two  old  men.     It  was  like  a  wild  strange  dream. 

She  lifted  her  head  restlessly  from  her  pillow  ;  now 
she  laid  it  back ;  what  use  was  there  in  lifting  it  ? 

With  Hamilton  there  was  not  a  moment's  inactiv- 
ity. He  threw  his  whole  weight  against  the  door  of 
the  best  hut,  and  having  cast  it  open,  he  went  to  an- 
other and  opened  that  likewise.  From  this  he  reap- 
peared with  a  large  armful  of  wood  cut  small,  and  en- 
tered the  first  door.  She  saw  him  come  out  again 
and  knock  the  snow  from  standing  piles  of  logs  broken 
into  smaller  and  larger  sizes.  Great  armfuls  of  these 
he  also  carried  into  the  hut.  He  was  making  a  large 
fire  for  her. 

She  rose,  tottering  with  weakness  and  cold,  and 
made  her  way  through  the  door.  Tlie  place  was  one 
long-shaped  room  with  a  door  and  two  windows. 
Tliere  was  little  furniture  ;  the  chimney  was  built  of 
rough  stones,  making  a  large  open  fireplace  at  one 
end. 

In  front  of  this  Hamilton  dragged  a  huge  sack  of 
straw  which  had  evidently  been  a  bed.  She  was 
thankful  to  see  that  he  covered  it  with  the  bearskins 
which  had  already  covered  her.  He  brought  in  her 
pillows  and  blanket.  He  said  he  supposed  she  could 
take  care  of  herself,  and  left  her,  shutting  the  door. 


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,h    ..:-' 

CHAPTER  X. 

Mary  grew  warm,  basking  beside  the  liberal  fire. 
There  was  no  longer  doubt  about  her  illness ;  the  pains 
in  back,  limbs,  and  head,  and,  above  all,  in  her  throat, 
were  acute ;  her  fever  was  high.  She  wondered  how 
long  she  was  doomed  to  remain  in  this  shelter.  She 
tossed,  aching,  and  thought  of  the  night  trains,  realiz- 
ing that  she  was  powerless  to  reach  the  railway.  With- 
out Hamilton's  help  the  attempt  would  surely  be 
futile ;  even  with  his  help  the  exposure  promised  death 
more  surely  than  any  other  result. 

Hamilton  came  in  again,  and  brought  her  some- 
thing to  eat.  He  went  about  the  room,  taking  the  per- 
sonal possessions  of  the  old  men  out  to  one  of  the  other 
huts.  He  left  her  such  things  as  were  necessary.  One 
of  the  windows  was  in  the  far  end  of  the  hut  opposite 
the  fire  ;  from  this  he  took  out  the  frame  bodily,  cast- 
ing such  rubbish  as  he  found  apparently  into  the  very 
foam  of  the  waterfall,  for  at  the  moment  the  roar  was 
loud.  On  the  whole,  he  left  her  room  in  pretty  good 
order,  aired  and  warm. 

88 


m 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


89 


If  tlie  sun  rose  early  upon  this  southern  slope  of 
the  hill,  it  also  set  early.  The  windows  of  the  room 
in  which  she  lay  were  only  semi-transparent,  because 
of  dirt  and  frost ;  yet  even  through  them,  in  her  sen- 
sitive state,  she  was  aware  when  the  shadow  of  the 
higher  portion  of  the  hill  crept  over  the  clearing. 
She  thought  that  it  might  be  about  three  in  the  after- 
noon ;  at  dusk  she  looked  out  and  saw  that  light  snow 
was  falling.  She  heard  the  old  men  return  from  their 
work,  and  after  that  Hamilton's  foot  came  again  to 
her  door. 

She  listened  breathless.  It  seemed  that  he  too 
listened  for  a  few  moments ;  then  he  knocked,  gently 
enough. 

In  his  left  arm  was  a  pile  of  logs  cut  for  the  fire ; 
with  his  right  hand  he  lifted  a  dish  which  he  had  set 
down  for  a  moment  upon  the  threshold.  When  he 
had  put  the  latter  beside  her  upon  the  floor,  he  made 
up  the  fire  very  carefully,  putting  upon  it  what 
seemed  to  her  an  enormous  quantity  of  fuel,  but  dis- 
posing the  ashes  of  the  former  fuel  in  a  careful  man- 
ner round  the  back  and  sides  of  the  pile  by  way,  as  it 
seemed,  of  keeping  it  from  burning  too  quickly.  She 
watched  him  as  a  child  watches  the  maid  build  its  nur- 
sery fire ;  it  was  a  relief  to  her  nerves  to  have  some- 
thing to  watch. 

Wlien  ready  to  go,  he  turned  to  her  for  the  first 
time;  his  face  and  voice  had  the  same  constrained 


90 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


enigmatical  expression  which  he  had  used  to  her  in 
the  morning  when  his  attempts  at  familiarity  had 
failed. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  ? "  he  asked. 

He  gave  her  a  somewhat  soiled  bit  of  paper  and  a 
fihori  pencil.     She  wrote — 

"  Please  try  to  stop  one  of  the  trains,  and  tell  the 
guard  to  let  my  friends  know." 

"Very  sorry" — there  was  little  of  excuse  in  his 
voice — "  but  in  that  matter  it  is  impossible  to  oblige 


you 


» 


His  next  action  was  so  singular  that  she  was  filled 
with  a  sudden  dread.  He  took  a  knife  out  of  his 
pocket,  and  gently,  even  respectfully,  moving  the 
folds  of  her  blue  veil  until  he  found  the  outer  edge 
of  it,  he  deliberately  cut  a  piece  several  inches  in 
length  across  the  whole  width. 

He  had  come  into  the  room  without  a  hat  on  ;  it 
was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  him  without  a  hat ;  it 
struck  her  now  that  it  was  almost  like  seeing  a  new 
person,  although  the  character  written  in  the  face  re- 
mained unchanged.  His  hair  was  longer  than  it  is 
the  habit  of  men  to  wear  hair  in  civilized  regions ;  it 
was  80  abundant  round  his  forehead  that  it  made  her 
think  involuntarily  what  a  handsome  boy  he  must 
have  been  in  those  early  days  when  a  child  is  just  be- 
ginning to  look  manly  and  the  mother  still  allows  the 
curls  to  gro^7.    She  felt  a  sensation  of  sorrow  for 


rev 

pasi 

seer 

the 

was 

was 

] 

the  : 

soon 

or  ai 

some 

other 

thatl 

she 

morn 
or  fii 

frien( 
hoiir« 

of  the 
and, 
palatal 
been 
was  gr 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


n 


that  mother,  whoever  she  might  have  been,  for  the 
son,  although  at  this  moment  his  action  was  gentle, 
had  long  since  ceased  to  be  gentle  at  heart. 

It  was  her  condition  of  fever  which  caused  this 
reverie  to  work  itself  through  her  brain ;  it  probably 
passed  in  the  flash  of  a  moment  as  dreams  do,  but  it 
seemed  to  her  a  long  time  that  he  was  sawing  through 
the  veil's  end,  which  he  had  gathered  together  and 
was  holding  stretched  out  between  two  fingers.  She 
was  exceedingly  frightened. 

It  must  have  been  very  early  in  the  evening  that 
the  men  seemed  to  retire  for  the  night;  almost  as 
soon  as  it  became  dark  she  ceased  to  hear  their  voices 
or  any  movement.  Previous  to  that  she  had  heard 
some  slight  sounds,  even  when  they  were  within  the 
other  huts  and  the  doors  were  shut.  She  perceived 
that  her  fire  was  expected  to  last  until  morning — that 
she  was  to  receive  no  further  attention.  In  the 
morning  she  must,  of  course,  either  leave  that  place 
or  find  some  means  of  communicating  with  her 
friends,  but  in  the  meantime  there  were  full  twelve 
hours  in  which  to  gather  strength. 

By  the  light  of  the  fire  she  now  lifted  the  cover 
of  the  basin  which  Hamilton  had  placed  beside  her, 
and,  upon  examination,  discovered  it  to  contain  a 
palatable  preparation  of  apples,  which  had  apparently 
been  dried  and  then  cooked  with  water.  The  fruit 
was  grateful  to  her. 


1^1 

.    -.I 

jo 

/■  i'V 

rsfWdi 

ijl 

1 

92 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


■  M 

■'If' 


After  that  she  supposed  that  she  must  have  fallen 
into  a  heavy  sleep,  for  she  was  conscious  that  some 
hours  had  elapsed  without  much  restlessness  when 
she  became  aware  that  there  were  quiet  footsteps  and 
low  voices  to  be  heard  outside. 

It  was  not  morning ;  she  did  not  believe  that  it 
was  past  midnight.  She  listened,  filled  with  anxiety, 
supposing  that  whoever  had  arrived  at  this  out-of-the- 
way  place  would  soon  make  known  their  presence  by 
knocking  or  calling.  She  had  an  idea  of  some  arri- 
val, gathered  probably  from  the  sound  of  horses'  feet 
and  sledge-runners  recognized  more  or  less  distinctly 
among  the  subdued  movements  made  by  men.  For 
one  long  minute  she  strained  her  sense  of  hearing. 
Unable  to  endure  suspense,  she  rose  and  crept  with 
silent  steps  to  the  near  window,  keeping  well  to 
the  side  lest  her  figure  should  be  seen  against  the 
firelight. 

She  saw  the  forms  of  three  men,  a  horse  and  a 
sledge ;  it  seemed  to  her  just  such  a  horse  and  sledge 
as  she  had  travelled  with  in  the  morning.  A  wild 
hope  filled  her  mind  that  it  was  some  party  of  friends 
or  railway  oflScials  searching  for  her ;  for  a  moment 
in  her  hope  she  put  out  her  hand  to  tap  on  the  win- 
dow; then  fear  restrained  her.  What  immediately 
astonished  her  was  that  the  party  which  she  supposed 
just  to  have  alighted  from  the  conveyance  now 
stepped  upon  it   and  drove  away.     There  was  no 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


08 


jingling  to  the  horse's  harness,  as  there  always  had 
been  with  any  other  sledge  which  she  had  seen  driven 
in  Canada,  and,  that  being  absent,  the  horse  and 
sledge  made  almost  no  sound  as  they  moved.  The 
men  were  silent ;  they  drove  oflF  by  the  edge  of  the 
small  plateau.  She  could  not  see  far;  there  was 
light,  dry  snow  falling  through  the  air. 

Was  this  lonely  place  haunted?  Was  this  a 
vision  of  spectres  which  she  had  seen,  which  she 
could  still  see,  moving  in  the  glimmering  night  ? 

Then  the  meaning  flashed  upon  her.  The  men 
were  the  two  old  men  who  lived  in  this  place  and 
Hamilton.  They  had  removed  the  noisy  part  of  the 
harness ;  they  had  gone  away  and  left  her  in  this 
horribly  lonely  place ;  they  had  gone  by  stealth,  so 
that  she  might  not  know  of  their  going. 

She  sprang  to  the  door,  and  with  all  the  strength 
of  fierce  impulse  tried  to  raise  the  latch  or  to  break  it 
open.  The  door  did  not  even  shake  mucL  under  her 
strongest  attempt;  certainly  no  noise  of  her  effort 
could  have  resounded  across  the  plain  to  the  reced- 
ing sJsdge.  She  became  convinced  that  the  latch  of 
the  door  had  been  fastened  upon  the  outside. 


CHAPTEK  XI. 

Suffering  now  from  acuter  pains  brought  on  by 
her  sudden  action,  she  went  back  to  the  bed,  having 
just  enough  care  for  lier  self-preservation  to  wrap 
herself  in  its  coverings.  For  some  reason  it  appeared 
to  her  a  more  awful  thing  to  be  entirely  alone  in 
this  remote  trio  of  human  habitations  among  the 
white  glimmering  hills  than  it  had  been  to  be  entire- 
ly alone  without  shelter  on  track  or  road  the  preced- 
ing night.  Her  illness  had  done  much  to  weaken  her 
nerve.  For  a  while  she  kept  incessant  watch  upon 
all  the  dark  corners  of  the  room,  and  lay  absolutely 
still,  as  if  the  slightest  rustle  might  irritate  some  un- 
known enemy  into  action. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  this  intense  watching  of 
the  room,  she  became  aware  of  something  which  she 
had  not  perceived  before.  This  was  that  all  tlie 
light  in  the  room  was  not  produced  by  the  glow  and 
flicker  of  the  fire ;  some  of  it  came  from  the  small 
window  in  the  opposite  gable,  and  this  light  was  of  a 
paler  colour  than  the  firelight,  yet  it  was  not  white, 

94 


:i:U',^  ,ff 


Ota 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


95 


like  the  beams  of  moon  or  star.  She  was  the  more 
sure  that  it  was  really  there,  and  no  invention  of  her 
fancy,  because  she  frequently  saw  quiveringc  across 
the  pallid  glow  from  the  window  which  did  not  cor- 
respond to  any  flickering  of  the  fire. 

It  gradually  became  to  her  a  necessity  to  rise  again 
and  creep  to  this  further  window.  She  could  not  make 
herself  believe  that  the  light  that  came  through  it 
was  the  light  of  any  fire ;  but  if  there  was  such  fire,  it 
behoved  her  to  examine  it  as  far  as  possible.  All  fears 
came  trooping  to  paint  pictures  upon  the  sensitive 
screen  that  hangs  before  the  eye  of  the  mind. 

When  she  had  tottered  across  the  half-darkened 
room,  and  approached  the  further  window,  it  was 
neither  the  fire  of  deliberate  incendiary  nor  the  ap- 
proaching torches  of  warlike  Indians  which  she  saw. 
At  first,  mind  and  eyes  confused  by  a  sight  entirely 
strange,  she  could  hardly  tell  what  she  saw. 

The  hut  was  upon  the  extreme  edge  of  the  plateau, 
and  this  window  looked  down  into  the  gully  of  the 
waterfall.  She  had  known  that  this  waterfall  was  near 
from  its  continuous  sound;  now  she  saw  it  leaping 
apparently  from  a  rock  which  rose  behind  the  hut  on 
to  the  first  ledge  of  the  gully  some  fifty  feet  below, 
leaping,  a  white  wild  formless  thing  of  spray  and  foam, 
into  a  wonderful  tunnel  built  in  a  solid  arch  of  ice,  but 
adorned  with  ornament  above  ornament  of  delicate 
icicles. 


I 


R'j;n 


96 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


The  very  sides  of  the  gully,  huge  rocks,  bending 
reeds  of  brambles  and  shrubs,  grotesque  forms  of  tree 
roots,  all  covered  with  ice  and  snow,  were  so  coated 
and  bedizened  by  the  frozen  spray  that  they  too 
seemed  a  part  of  the  wonderful  architecture  of  this 
ornamental  bridge  of  ice  under  which  the  stream  de- 
scended. 

Now,  the  strange  thing  was,  that  whereas  when  she 
had  looked  out  of  the  front  window  of  the  hut  her  eyes 
had  been  just  able  to  distinguish  objects  in  the  glim- 
mering night,  looking  down  upon  the  waterfall  she 
could  see  the  detail  of  its  wonderful  beauty  clearly. 
She  could  see,  too,  the  small  snowllakes  falling,  melt- 
ing in  the  water. 

The  light  by  which  she  saw  it  all  was  the  same  as 
that  which  had  quivered  upon  her  window.  For  per- 
haps a  full  minute  the  lonely  girl  had  looked  down 
upon  the  scene ;  now  she  shrank  back  into  the  nearest 
dark  corner,  trembling,  if  not  with  fear,  with  sudden 
excitement  that  was  akin  to  fear.  The  light  proceeded 
from  a  certain  graceful  moving  form  of  light  which 
seemed  to  stand  upon  the  other  side  of  the  stream, 
near  the  base  of  the  waterfall.  The  form  had  the 
height  of  a  human  figure,  and  it  either  had  the  same 
contour,  or  the  eye  easily  supplied  the  faint  outline  of 
Buch  figure  veiled,  as  it  seemed,  in  a  falling  veil  of 

light. 

Mary  stepped  out  again  from  the  shadow  of  her 


iliiiB 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


97 


'J 
lie 


casement.  She  had  forgotten  her  pain ;  excit'^ment 
had  cancelled  weakness.  While  this  unearthly  seem- 
ing light  fell  upon  her  face,  she  felt  that  some  spirit 
within  this  form  was  looking  at  her.  The  figure  of 
light  not  only  fulfilled  her  highest  ideal  of  what  a  spir- 
itual appearance  might  he,  but  transcended  it. 

The  form  standing  in  the  same  place  moved ;  it 
seemed  to  Mary  that  it  beckoned  her,  for  the  veil  of 
light  moved  as  above  arms  that  beckoned.  She  did  not 
know  what  to  think :  thought  being  in  abeyance,  emo- 
tion was  in  abeyance  too. 

As  she  waited  she  heard  a  great  sound — a  distant 
rushing  that  echoed  louder  and  louder.  It  was  the 
passing  of  one  of  the  trains.  She  was  spellbound, 
startled  to  hear  the  vibration  of  so  many  echoes ;  then 
the  sound  died.  She  stood  alone,  more  lonesome  than 
hefore,  above  the  frost-bound  gully. 

A  new  thought  and  sensation  came  to  her;  the 
thought  and  sensation  were  of  pure  joy  in  the  beauty 
of  what  she  saw,  apart  from  any  relation  of  the  sight 
to  her  own  welfare.  In  her  childhood  she  had  read 
the  story  of  Undine.  A  wave  of  thought  bearing  the 
image  and  the  sentiments  of  the  story  surged  now  into 
her  mind  ;  with  it  she  had  again  the  power  of  a  little 
child  to  enter  into  the  region  in  which  self-interest  is 
not. 

For  a  moment  or  two  she  saw  in  the  wild  and 
hoary  waterfall  the  Spirit  of  the  Mountain,  strong, 


m 


98 


THE   MADOXNA   OP  A   DAY. 


incapable  of  exh.iustion,  yet  with  a  heart  that  had  its 
own  longings  for  love  and  friendliness.  The  water- 
fall became  a  person  to  her ;  the  form  of  light,  too, 
was  a  person — the  Spirit  of  Spring,  perhaps,  come 
from  warm  and  sunshiny  glades  in  distant  lands  to 
spend  the  night  in  companionship  with  this  her 
ancient  lover.  These  two  rejoiced,  as  it  seemed,  in 
the  presence  of  the  other  without  need  of  embrace 
or  outward  sign  of  converse,  unless  it  was  when  the 
Spirit  of  Light  moved  her  veiled  arms,  and  the 
waterfall  in  her  quivering  beam  seemed  to  leap  the 
faster. 

Mary  felt  strongly  the  poetical  influence  of  this 
interpretation  of  the  scene.  There  was  another 
thought  in  her  mind  also,  in  direct  opposition  to  the 
lirst — the  thought  of  impatient  scorn  of  dreaming, 
the  cid  bono  of  restless  worldliness  which,  in  the 
years  that  had  passed  since  the  childish  days  in  which 
she  had  rejoiced  over  Undine,  had  become  habitual 
to  her ;  yet  for  the  time  the  other  influence,  the 
reflex  of  the  fresh  mental  impulses  of  her  childhood, 
was  the  stronger.  With  the  awakening  of  the  more 
spiritual  part  of  her  mind  had  begun  a  new  conten- 
tion of  the  higher  and  lower  within  her.  Now,  and  in 
the  days  that  followed,  the  two  tendencies  sometimes 
unconsciously  mingled  and  sometimes  consciously 
fought.     She  was  not  again  simply  a  worldly  woman. 

She  knew  now  that  if  she  cared  for  her  life  at  all. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


99 


?> 


she  must  lie  still  in  all  the  warmth  which  she  could 
gather  from  her  bed.  As  she  lay  there,  the  thing 
that  remained  most  strongly  with  her  was  a  com- 
forting pleasure  in  thinking  over  and  over  again  the 
mere  beauty  of  the  scene  she  had  last  gazed  at.  It 
was,  in  sort,  a  physical  salvation  that  she  had  some- 
thing in  her  which  responded  to  that  appeal  which 
nature  is  always  making  to  the  human  mind  to  find 
rest  in  the  contemplation  of  her  loveliness.  Those 
things  within  her  which  she  least  recognized  and  least 
valued  had  risen  and  saved  her  from  prolonged 
torture  of  just  anxiety. 

Our  help  comes  not  from  without,  but  wells  up 
from  the  depth  within  us.  Beneath  that  depth  what 
is  there  ?  It  was  said  by  one  of  old  that  underneath 
the  soul  is  tLe  hand  of  God. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


When  the  morning  light  was  clear  upon  the  win- 
dow-pane, the  sick  girl  heard  again  the  sounds  of 
travellers  near  the  house.  She  rose  again,  to  be  able 
to  see  out  of  the  front  window. 

The  sight  she  saw  had  something  of  the  appear- 
ance of  a  small  triumphal  procession.  First  came  the 
oldest  man,  he  of  the  clear  blue  eyes,  leading  a  cow ; 
the  other  old  man  and  Hamilton  came  one  behind  the 
other,  each  mounted  on  a  pony,  and  each  carrying 
part  of  the  carcase  of  an  ox.  It  was  now  apparent 
that  this  exped-tion  of  night  and  darkness  had  been 
for  purposes  of  forage.  It  was  a  great  relief  for  her 
to  see  that  it  had  this  peaceful  meaning — peaceful  if 
stealthy. 

It  was  a  source  of  real  comfort  to  her  that  these 
men  had  come  back.  Uncouth,  wicked  men  as  they 
appeared  to  be,  still,  in  the  hope  that  they  intended  to 
guard  her,  she  felt  herself  safer  than  when  wholly  un- 
protected. With  the  relaxation  of  this  relief,  utter 
exhaustion  of  nerve  and  muscle  came  upon  her.    It 

100 


I-yr 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


101 


was  with  the  feeblest  degree  of  interest  that  she 
watched  Hamilton  enter  and  make  up  the  fire.  He 
brought  warm  milk  to  her;  he  even  put  his  hand 
under  her  head  and  caused  her  to  drink  it.  He  went 
out  as  before,  shutting  the  door,  and  she  remained 
alone  until  the  short  day  began  again  to  wane.  By 
this  time  she  began  to  suspect  that  he  had  mixed 
some  anti-febrine  draught  with  the  milk,  for  she  had 
been  able  to  lie  more  quiet,  and  she  experienced  some 
relief  from  pain  and  fever.  She  was  even  able  to 
rise  and  arrange  her  bed  afresh. 

Listless,  weak  as  she  was  the  whole  day,  she  still 
grew  more  and  more  satisfied  that  she  had  been 
placed  in  such  circumstances  as  gave  her  a  fair 
chance  of  comfortable  recovery. 

Hamilton  again  paid  his  evening  visit.  He  made 
the  fire  as  before  with  great  and  small  logs,  heaped 
with  ashes ;  he  put  milk  and  cooked  apples  beside 
her.  He  did  not  again  attempt  to  help  her  drink  the 
milk ;  instead,  he  touched  her  wrist  lightly  for  a  mo- 
ment with  his  middle  finger.  So  far  it  seemed  that 
he  would  do  no  more  for  her  than  was  necessary; 
his  manner  expressed  a  certain  discomfort  in  her 
presence. 

It  is  always  the  unexpected  that  happens.  She 
was  not  aware  that  she  had  recovered  a  partial  use  of 
her  voice ;  she  had  not  dreamed  of  using  it  without 
deliberate  forethought ;  yet  now,  when  she  saw  him 


iiHii 


11 


102 


THE  MADONNA  OP  .)    DAY. 


turn  towards  the  door,  she  thought  of  the  possibility 
that  he  and  the  other  men  might  again  leave  the 
place,  and  of  the  unexplained  luminous  spectre  whose 
light  had  shone  upon  the  end  window.  Fear  and 
curiosity  suddenly  produced  in  her  whispered  ques- 
tions.    She  could  not  do  more  than  whisper. 

"  Are  you  all  going  away  again  to-night  ? " 

He  turned  instantly  and  faced  her.  She  did  not 
like  to  see  that  he  grew  visibly  more  at  ease  in  her 
presence.  He  did  not  answer  at  once ;  he  seemed  to 
be  considering  her  in  the  new  character  of  a  lady 
capable  of  speech. 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  he  asked. 

She  felt  the  imperious  right  of  weakness,  and  also 
of  her  ladyhood,  to  have  her  own  question  answered 
and  leave  his  until  to-morrow  if  she  chose ;  then  she 
remembered  her  role  of  dignified  simplicity  in  which 
capriciousness  had  no  part. 

He  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  pleased  with 
the  sentiment  she  had  expressed.  The  natural  man 
in  him  expanded  perceptibly.    He  sat  down  on  a  box. 

"I've  taken  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  hide  you 
here  and  keep  you  safe,"  he  explained.  "Stray 
women  wandering  round  loose,  with  diamond  rings 
about  them,  are  not  the  sort  of  cattle  that  are  easiest 
to  take  care  of  in  a  place  like  this.  As  I'm  not  under 
the  impression  that  you  fell  from  the  sky,  I  suppose 
that  you  must  have  got  off  the  train  in  some  way ; 


tiji^:. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


103 


Ith 
lU 


the  question  that  is  naturally  in  my  mind  is,  wh  3ther 
you've  got  your  wits  or  not,  and  if  you  have,  what 
you  did  it  for." 

lie  stopped  as  abruptly  as  he  had  begun.  The 
words,  "  hide  you  here,"  gave  her  information,  and 
of  a  sort  she  did  not  like.  She  was  hidden,  then  ;  no 
help  could  come  to  her  from  a  community  which  did 
not  know  that  she  was  here.  She  looked  up  at  him 
with  quiet  eyes ;  within  she  was  reading  his  face,  and 
saying  to  herself  that  there  was  no  feminine  art  that 
he  did  not  know  by  heart  and  despise,  except  just 
this  one  which  she  used — that  of  appearing  perfectly 
good. 

"  My  name  is  Mary  Howard,"  she  whispered. 

He  made  a  slight  bow,  which  had  some  semblance 
of  respect,  except  that  with  it  there  was  a  certain 
cynical  raising  of  the  eyebrows ;  it  suggested  that  he, 
too,  was  on  the  defensive,  determined  not  to  be  duped. 

"  !Now,  look  here,"  he  said  again ;  "  we  shall  get 
on  much  better  if  you  tell  me  just  the  plain  unvar- 
nished truth.  You  look  to  me  as  if  you  had  your 
wits.  I  took  the  trouble  yesterday  to  follow  the 
track  you  made  before  along  the  line ;  it  looked  un- 
commonly as  if  you  had  jumped  from  the  train. 
Now,  if  you  wanted  to  put  an  end  to  your  pretty 
little  self — some  girls  do,  you  know,  when  they  get 
into  a  mess — just  give  me  the  tip,  and  your  friends 
and  lovers  can  weep  for  a  year  without  ever  knowing 


•Sill 


iM 


104 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


that  you  are  alive.  I  suppose  that's  the  sort  of  fuss 
a  woman  wants  to  make  wlien  she  tries  to  do  for 
herself." 

Ilis  new  familiarity  was  intolerable.  She  did 
what  she  could  to  reproduce  in  him  his  former  con- 
straint. 

She  raised  her  head  in  piteous  indignation. 

"  I  fell,'^  she  whispered.  "  I  must  have  walked 
in  my  sleep  off  the  train." 

The  wish  being  father  to  the  thought,  he  favoured 
his  first  theory  more. 

"  It's  not  just  a  very  likely  story ;  it  will  be  bet- 
ter for  you  in  the  end  if  you  tell  me  the  truth. 
Come,  now,  I  can  sympathize  with  you ;  I've  often 
thought  that  a  header  into  the  tomb  would  be  a 
pleasant  variety.  You  thought  you'd  put  an  end  to 
yourself — now,  didn't  you  ?  But  the  snow  was  soft, 
and  it  didn't  hurt  much,  and  it  sounds  more  artistic 
to  say  you  fell." 

"  I  did  not  try  to  kill  myself ;  it  would  be  wrong." 
She  threw  all  the  earnestness  she  could  into  the  low 
whisper. 

"Wrong?" — a  cynical  lift  of  the  brows — "why 
*  wrong?" 

"  It  says  so  in  the  Bible." 

It  was  curious  that,  as  she  tried  to  raise  herself 
in  his  eyes,  she  involuntarily  fell  back  upon  associ- 
ations which  she  herself  really  despised. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


105 


lie  drew  his  under  lip  partly  under  the  upper 
teeth.  She  saw  his  teeth  as  he  did  it ;  they  were 
dark  and  decayed.  He  looked  at  her  keenly ;  it 
seemed  that  he  did  not  know  how  to  adapt  himself 
to  an  element  which  he  could  not  estimate. 

"  As  soon  as  I  am  well  I  must  go  to  the  nearest 
station,"  she  whispered.  "I  must  telegraph.  The 
missionaries  I  was  travelling  with  will  be  searching 
the  country." 

"  Missionaries  ? "  he  said. 

"  I  was  travelling,  you  know,  from  China.  A 
missionary  was  taking  care  of  me." 

"What  is  a  missionary?"  he  asked,  pretending 
that  the  word  was  unknown  to  him. 

She  also  pretended  to  mistake  his  precise  mean- 
ing. "  Mr.  Burland  belongs  to  the  China  Inland 
Mission,  you  know." 

"  'Pon  my  word,  no,  I  don't  know."  In  a  mo- 
ment he  added,  "  You've  talked  erough  for  to-night. 
Tm  the  doctor.  You'll  be  having  consumption  if 
you  don't  look  after  yourself." 

The  excitement  of  talking  made  her  rash.  She 
judged  that  to  blend  what  she  had  just  said  into 
the  trustfulness  she  assumed  would  be  no  loss 
to  her. 

"  Don't  leave  the  place  with  no  one  to  take  care 
of  me,"  she  pleaded.  ■'^  I  was  so  frightened  when  I 
heard  you  all  go  away  last  night." 


'Ill 


4%  h 


im 


106 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


He  gave  lier  another  searching  look  before  he 
answered. 

"  YouVe  got  sharp  ears,"  he  said,  ''  but  you're 
quite  right ;  we  had  to  go  to  get  meat  and  miik  for 
you  to  live  on,  little  lady.  Wc  had  to  take  them  at 
night,  in  case  the  fellows  should  get  to  know  where 
you  are ;  but — I  won't  go  away  again  if  you  like  me 
to  take  care  of  you." 

"  You  are  so  good  !  When  I  go  away  I  will  give 
you  the  ring  to  pay  for  the  milk  and  meat.  It  was 
my  mother's,  and  she  is  dead ;  but  I  know  that  she 
would  like  me  to  give  it  to  you,  because  you  have 
saved  me." 

At  last  for  one  moment  she  saw  something  in  his 
face  which  she  felt  to  be  a  genuine  emotion  of  self- 
distrust  and  compunction ;  it  was  lost  in  that  hard 
look  of  self-suppression  which  he  now  resumed. 

"What  is  that  beautiful  white  thing  that  shines 
on  my  window  ? "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  the  angel  of  your  mother  come  to  take  care 
of  you,"  he  said.  There  was  the  coldest  sarcasm 
under  the  words,  but  it  seemed  that  he  had  not  meant 
that  that  should  be  apparent  to  her. 

He  left  her,  shutting  the  door  for  the  night.  She 
lay  wondering  whether  his  sarcasm  had  been  directed 
at  her  hapless  plight  or  at  his  own  perplexity. 


CIIAPTEU  XIII. 


ics 

ire 
Ism 

mt 

Ited 


She  passed  her  wakeful  hours  in  considering  what 
was  new  to  her  in  the  knowledge  of  her  situation, 
and  also  what  was  still  unexplained. 

When  darkness  jame  she  saw  the  strange  light 
again  upon  the  further  window.  She  could  not  resist 
crossing  the  room  just  once  to  see  if  the  sight  had  in 
any  way  changed  since  the  previous  night.  It  had 
not  changed.  The  luminous  form,  like  a  veiled  half- 
transparent  human  figure,  still  stood  upon  the  rock  at 
the  foot  of  the  waterfall.  In  its  light  the  water 
leaped  and  foamed,  and  all  the  million  icicles  upon 
snow-covered  rock,  root  and  shrub,  glistened,  not 
with  a  bright  sparkling,  rather  with  a  pearly  glow. 

Mary  went  back  to  bed  with  the  vision  in  her 
mind  as  before.  It  formed  the  only  pleasant  subject 
for  her  mind's  eye ;  it's  strangeness  had  no  longer 
any  fears  for  her.  To-night  she  heard  the  train  pass 
with  the  mighty  rush  of  echoes,  not  once,  but  twice. 
It  was  maddening  to  hear  the  sound  and  be  cut  off 
from  the  world.     She  considered  Hamilton's  sarcastic 

107 


.~-k3 


n 


'w- 


108 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


explanation  of  tlie  curious  natural  plienomonon.  She 
augured  little  good  from  the  fact  that  he  could  jest 
about  a  dead  mother,  whose  mention  a  moment  be- 
fore had  moved  him  to  some  compunction.  Her 
mother  was  not  dead,  but  that  did  not  matter  to  her 
much.  The  first  dim  stirring  of  her  soul  within  her 
had  not  as  yet  changed  her  habits  of  practical  thought 
in  the  slightest.  She  only  felt  some  anxiety  as  to 
how  she  could  make  out  a  more  particular  tale  of  her 
immediate  past,  and  the  present  condition  of  her 
friends,  consistent  with  her  boasted  connection  with 
missionaries.  All  that  came  to  her  in  the  way  of  ob- 
jection to  this  lying  was  the  wish  it  had  not  been 
necessary,  and  a  half-formed  wonder  as  to  how  it  was 
that  she  came  persistently  to  deem  it  her  source  of 
safety. 

The  next  day,  wheix  Hamilton  came  for  his  morn- 
ing work  at  the  fire,  she  told  him  she  felt  better,  and 
asked  him  when  he  would  be  able  to  take  her  to  the 
nearest  station.  She  was  up,  sitting  feebly  upon  a 
chair. 

Hamilton,  who  was  at  the  time  kneeling  be- 
fore the  fireplace  arranging  the  logs,  turned  his 
head  and  stared  at  her,  as  his  habit  was,  before  he 
spoke. 

"  You  couldn't  have  got  off  the  train  during  this 
enow  anywhere  along  the  line  where  it  is  so  bad  get- 
ting at  a  station ;  there's  no  road  but  the  line,  and 


ag£ 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


109 


open  bridges  on  it  either  way,  so  tlrat  a  horse  can't 
go  ovoi'  them." 

"Couldn't  any  one  walk  along  the  line  and  tell 
them  I  am  here  ? " 

"  I  am  a  good  walker,"  he  f^aid..  "  and  have  a 
steady  head  for  bridges  ;  if  I  took  about  eight  hours 
to  go  and  come,  I  might  manage  it." 

"  Will  you  go  ? " 

"  ^o,  and  for  that  you  may  thank  me ;  if  those 
boys  down  at  the  digging,  or  the  heathens  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  got  wind  that  I  was  on  the 
track  and  you  were  here,  where  would  you  and  your 
diamond  ring  be  ? "  He  turned  his  face  as  he  finished 
speaking,  with  a  smile  that  was  meant  to  appear  kind. 
"  Where  would  you  be  then,  eh  ? " 

She  did  not  believe  that  the  situation  was  just  as 
he  painted  it,  but  of  this  she  gave  no  sign. 

Before  he  went  out  he  stood  and  looked  at  her 
again.  He  spoke  in  a  somewhat  injured  and  self- 
vaunting  tone. 

"  I've  taken  a  whole  lot  of  pains  to  conceal  your 

whereabouts,  and   set   those   fellows   on   the  wrong 

track.    I'm  loitering  here  in  a  beastly  dull  place  just 

in  order  to  knock  any  fellow  down  who  might  happen 

to  find  you  were  here.     It's  all  I  can  do  at  present. 

You'd  better  lie  down  and  get  yourself  well ;  you're 

not  fit  to  hold  your  head  up." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  she  said.    She  had  an 
8 


; 


110 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


'^ 


idea  that  good  people  were  apt  to  be  credulous  of 
good  ill  others. 

Although  she  had  never  put  to  herself  the  prop- 
osition abstractly,  as  a  matter  of  practical  experience 
she  was  aware  that  charity  does  not  easily  suppose 
itself  impugned,  and  does  not  vaunt  itself.  Charity, 
then,  was  clearly  not  the  source  of  Hamilton's  course 
of  action  towards  her. 

One  thing  that  Hamilton  said  appeared  to  be 
true  enough,  and  that  was  that  there  was 
nothing  for  her  to  do  at  present  but  to  gain 
strength  as  quickly  as  she  could.  That  day  and  the 
night  passed  with  no  change  in  her  situation,  except 
that  she  did  gather  strength. 

The  next  morning,  about  eleven  o'clock,  she 
was  roused  by  hearing  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  she 
had  not  heard  for  some  days,  accosting  Hamilton. 
The  advent  of  any  new-comer  must  produce  in  her 
instant  excitement,  both  of  fear  and  hope.  Without 
delay  she  crept  from  her  bed  and  approached,  not  the 
window,  but  the  crack  of  the  door.  She  had  heard 
the  voice  before ;  in  a  moment  she  recognized  it ;  it 
was  the  voice  of  the  small  deformed  cynical  man 
whom  she  had  seen  with  the  other  men  upon  the  first 
night. 

The  dwarf,  she  believed,  inherited  none  of  those 
traditions  of  honour  to  which  to  some  extent 
she  trusted    in    her  dealings    with  Hamilton.    His 


(( 


TIIH   MADONNA   OP   A    DAY. 


Ill 


accent  was  distinctly  vul<^ar ;  his  voice  was  bland 
and  disagreeable;  his  lisp  again  struck  her  as 
more  horrible,  in  the  wild  untrammelled  life  he 
was  leading,  than  any  other  defect  of  speech  could 
have  been. 

"  Ilow'th  Beauty  ?  Come  to  pay  a  call  on 
her." 

Hamilton's  reply  was  a  suggestion  that  the  dwarf 
should  pay  a  call  on  the  infernal  regions  instead.  It 
was  delivered  with  a  sharpness  that  proved  they  had 
not  hitherto  been  in  league. 

"Thankth  awfully.  Pwefer  calling  on  Beauty 
inthtead.     Where' th  the  dwawing-woom  ? " 

She  took  one  glance  from  her  window,  and  re- 
treated. Hamilton,  in  his  ragged  fur  coat  and  moc- 
casin leggings,  was  lounging  in  the  bright  sunshine 
near  the  door  of  her  hut.  He  seemed  to  have  come 
near  that  door  at  the  other's  approach;  the  small 
deformed  man  was  paying  his  visit  witli  every  out- 
ward appearance  of  social  urbanity.  They  were  both 
smoking  pipes.  The  snow  was  sparkling  on  all  sides ; 
the  sun  was  shining  very  brightly  upon  the  peaceful 
rural  scene.  She  felt,  in  a  wild  impatience,  that  it 
was  an  evil  law  which  caused  the  sun  to  shine  so 
brightly  upon  the  unjust. 

''  See  here,"  said  Hamilton  ;  "  she's  ill :  it's  diph- 
theria." 

"  Oh  no ; "  the  cynic  spoke  with  cheerful  assur- 


112 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


anco.      "  Beauty  liatli    not   got    diplithowia.      Poor 
Beauty !     Tell  utli  a  better  tale  than  that." 

Hamilton  swore  at  him  in  round  terms.  "  Think 
I  don't  know  diphtheria?"  lie  asked.  "Call  it 
what  you  like  when  a  woman's  got  a  throat  all 
covered  with  white  spots  run  together,  and  lips  that 
are  black  with  fever — it  doesn't  matter  much  what 
name  you  give  it ;  it's  pretty  dangerous  dealing  with 
diseased  cattle — that's  all  I  know." 

The  dwarf  gave  a  low  whistle ;  his  serene  belief 
that  Hamilton  was  lying  appeared  to  be  disturbed. 

As  for  the  girl  leaning  against  the  door  inside, 
her  heart  quaked  under  this  graphic  description  of 
her  illness.  Was  it  true  ?  She  had  no  looking-glass ; 
she  could  not  at  the  moment  remember  any  fact  that 
would  contradict  his  statement.  She  began  to  feel 
more  ill  out  of  fear  at  the  fateful  name  given  to  her 
disease. 

"  Not  fatal,  I  thuppothe  ? "  said  the  dwarf. 

"  If  she  doesn't  have  a  relapse,  I  think  she'll  go 
on  well  enough.  Whether  I'll  catch  the  devil  of  a 
disease  and  go  to  the  dogs  with  it  or  not,  I  can't  just 
at  this  present  moment  inform  you,  although  I  have 
no  doubt  you'd  like  to  know." 

"  Been  kithing  her  ? "  asked  the  cynic,  in  a  tone 
of  commiseration. 

Hamilton's  voice  had  been  gradually  assuming  a 
less  hostile  tone,  and  it  appeared  now  that  he  de- 


vh 

wLi 
dwi 
tiiel 
tw, 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


113 


'eel 


tone 
de- 


termined, either  to  take  the  other  into  his  confidence, 
or  to  appear  to  do  so. 

"  Look  here,  what's  doing  at  the  Fhnne  ?  How 
came  you  here  ? " 

"  The  wortht  of  it  ith  there'th  nothing  doing,  ath 
you  might  know  ;  devilith  lot  of  thnow,  devilith  cold, 
and  me  come  thix  thouthand  milth  to  live  with  old 
f wiend  I  Beauty  dethendth  one  evening  in  the  thape 
of  an  anthel,  vanitheth  quite  in  good  thtyle  qui  anthel, 
old  f  wiend  ith  known  to  wun  aftah  ;  thome  dayth  aftah 
ith  found  living  in  wuwal  thecluthion  with  Beauty." 

"  How  did  the  poor  devils  down  there  take  the 
vanishing  business  ? " 

"  According  to  the  thpethial  biath  of  ewry  devil ; 
main  point  ith,  they  think  you've  made  off  to  "West 
Kiel,  or,  at  Beauty'th  inthtigathion,  been  taken  bodily 
into  the  thky  or  the  lower  wegionth." 

"  And  the  cow  and  the  beef  ? " 

"  Ha  I  you've  got  them,  have  you  ?  Wewy  clever, 
muth  thay  I  We've  all  been  down  and  whacked  the 
pig-tailed  heathen  for  the  depwedathion." 

Hamilton  laughed — it  was  a  cruel  laugh ;  then  he 
sneered,  "  You  did  a  lot  of  the  fighting." 

"  Only  held  the  thmalleth  Johnny  by  hith  pig-tail, 
while  the  Yankee  whacked  him.  You  thee,"  said  the 
dwarf,  "  they  made  out  you'd  gone  th' other  way,  for 
they  found  bith  of  Beauty'th  veil  for  a  mile  along  the 
twack.   No  twail  either  way,  becauth  thnow  wath  fall- 


H  '  ■ 


114 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


mi 


iug  :  but  bitli  of  Beautj'tli  veil  on  wocks  and  twees — 
pwetty  devitlie  that !  Had  doubtli  in  my  mind  about 
it.  Didn't  make  any  wemark  ;  thonglit  I'd  not  wound 
on  a  thum  w^hen  I'd  come  thix  thoutliand  miltli  to 
thee  him." 

There  was  a  silence  between  the  men ;  they  were 
both  smoking.  Tlie  girl  continued  to  lean  against  the 
inside  of  the  door.  It  came  to  her  as  a  curioue  recol- 
lection, that  in  any  other  situation  than  her  present 
miserable  one  she  would  not  have  judged  these  two 
men  hardly ;  she  would  have  thought  them  rather 
valiant  and  pleasant  knaves.  In  her  modern  width  of 
thought  she  had  always  supposed  herself  to  despise 
the  mind  which,  from  some  petty  personal  circum- 
stance, should  have  its  eyes  closed  to  an  all-round,  well- 
proportioned  view  of  men  and  things.  It  appeared  to 
her  that,  to  be  consistent,  she  ought  to  despise  herself 
now  for  the  rage  of  indignation  that  lay  under  hard 
control  within  her. 

The  dwarf  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Well,  what'th 
the  game  ?  Got  the  athe  of  twumpth  ;  but  the  athc 
of  twumpth  ithn't  the  whole  game." 

Here  Hamilton  broke  in  suddenly ;  he  seemed  to 
rise  and  go  nearer  the  dwarf.  His  voice  assumed  a 
certain  genuineness  of  tone,  a  business-like  quality ;  it 
seemed  as  if  he  had  suddenly  resolved  on  actually  tak- 
ing counsel.  She  could  not  hear  all  the  words ;  under 
ordinary  circumstances  she  would  not  have  heard  any, 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


115 


to 


but  the  whole  force  of  her  nature  was  turned  at  that 
moment  into  a  determination  to  hear.  She  hardly 
breathed  ;  she  held  her  ear  close  against  the  crack  of 
the  door. 

"  I  tell  you  there's  money  behind  her.  Diamonds 
like  that  don't  grow  on  bushes." 

The  dwarf  did  not  take  much  pains  to  subdue  his 
vo^Je.  It  was  never  loud,  but  it  had  a  penetrating 
quality.  "  Wath  going  to  obtherve  that  Beauty  mutlit 
have  fwiends.'^ 

"  Naturally,  I  suppose  she  has.  Most  women  with 
pretty  eyes  and  diamond  rings  have  an  infernal  lot  of 

friends.     Says  they're  missionaries.     I'll  be if 

they  are  all  missionaries,  and  she  with  a  ring  like  that. 
Whoever  they  are,  it's  they  who  keep  the  tin.  It's 
not  likely  she  has  it  in  her  pocket " — with  sarcasm. 

The  dwarf  gave  a  prolonged  note  of  exclamation, 
indicative  of  the  sentiment  that  the  matter  was  more 
complicated  than  he  l«ad  supposed. 

"Can't  you  stop  acting  the  idiot,  and  use  your 
wits  ? " 

"  Pothe  atli  hewo ;  win  Beauty'th  heart." 

"  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  to  trust  to  her  heart.  Any 
way,  I  don't  know  that  she's  the  sort  that  would 
catch  on." 

The  dwarf  appeared  to  enjoy  this  last  con- 
fession— 

"  Pwoor  devil !  twied  to  make  love  even  though 


til 
'IS  ?■  I 


116 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Beauty  had  diphtliewia.  Beauty  ditlidainful.  Poor 
devil  wepulthed." 

"  I  have  not  tried.     She's  pious." 

"  Poor  Beauty !  dif thwetic  and  piouth  !  Poor 
devil,  got  hith  handth  full." 

"  Hang  the  diphtheria !  She's  no  more  got  diph- 
theria than  I  have."  There  was  a  pause.  Hamilton 
kicked  the  snow;  then  he  burst  out — "'Twas  you 
suggested  the  priest  at  the  Crees.  I  sent  the  old  man 
to  him." 

"Ith  poor  piouth  Beauty  a  thimpleton?"  The 
cynic  evidently  thought  that  this  question  was  ap- 
posite. 

"  She's  got  more  wits  than  will  be  at  all  con- 
venient, but  I'll  be  hanged  if "     He  spoke  now 

so  fast  and  incoherently,  and  with  such  irritation  in 
his  whole  voice  and  manner,  that,  to  her  dismay,  she 
found  that  she  could  understand  nothing  more  ex- 
cept a  word  or  two  at  the  conclusion — "  friends  turn 
up  a  straight  tale  to  tell — couldn't  have  done  more 
than  we've  done." 

The  cynic  was  not  made  incoherent  by  any  gust 
of  emotion. 

"  The  very  thoul  of  honour ! "  he  said. 


(«» 


CHAPTER  Xiy. 


They  were  gone.  Mary  stood  alone.  She  had 
retreated  a  few  paces  from  the  door.  She  looked 
about  the  log  hut  with  desperate  glance ;  she 
clenched  her  hands,  she  stamped  her  foot,  feeling 
the  absolute  need  for  some  expression  for  the  pas- 
sion of  anger  which  had  arisen,  yet  she  felt  that  the 
very  expression  which  she  made  use  of  mocked  her, 
because  she  had  so  often  used  the  same  outward 
signs  to  express  small  half -simulated  tempests  of 
wrath  which  bore  no  relation  of  likeness  to  the  mis- 
ery of  deep  anger  which  was  now  forced  upon  her. 

She  felt  that  if  she  could  have  murdered  these 
two  men  she  would  have  done  it  gladly.  She  ex- 
perienced a  positive  feeling  of  physical  nausea  at 
the  remembrance  of  the  way  in  which  they  had 
spoken  about  her,  and  yet  she  could  not  cut  them  off 
in  her  mind  by  drawing  any  clear  line  between  them 
and  other  men,  whose  scheming  about  her,  and 
familiarity  towards  her,  gave  her  good  reason  to 
suppose  that  they  had  talked  of  her  lightly  enough  in 

117 


118  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

her  absence.  These  men  were  much  worse,  but  they 
were  not  wholly  different,  and,  curiously  enough,  it 
was  this  undefined  likeness  which  lent  the  bitterest 
irritation  to  her  wounded  spirit. 

The  men  who  were  her  friends  in  varying  degrees 
were  good-hearted  and  clever ;  she  was  not  the  least 
sorry  that  she  had  associated  with  them  in  frank 
unaffected  comradeship.  At  this  moment  she  longed 
for  their  companionship  and  protection  as  a  home- 
sick child  longs  for  home.  Her  way  with  them  had 
been  much  better  than  the  old-fashioned  ways  of 
stilted  conventionality,  more  wholesome  for  her, 
more  wholesome  for  them;  she  was  sure  of  that. 
She  had  everywhere  found  many  friends  among 
men,  and  she  was  quite  conscious  that  they  had 
most  of  them  wanted  to  make  love  to  her,  and  also 
that  it  was  her  money,  and  the  free  way  in  which 
she  spent  it,  that  had  formed  a  large  part  of  the 
attraction.  She  found  no  fault  with  this  at  all;  it 
was  natural,  and  what  is  natural  is  right ;  but  now  di 

that  she  was  confronted  with  a   hideous  caricature  h 

of  what  she  approved,  she  felt  such  anger  that  no 
revenge  at  that  moment  would  have  seemed  to  her 
excessive.  She  had  no  means  of  revenge;  she  had 
not  even  means  of  escape. 

An  hour  afterwards  the  two  men  came  to  see 
her.     After  a  warning  knock,  Hamilton  looked  in. 

"  Well  enough  to  see  visitors  ? "  he  asked  cheer- 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


110 


it 
lOW 

are 

no 

her 

had 

see 

ier- 


fnlly.  "  Got  a  friend  here  would  like  to  make  yonr 
acquaintance." 

"  Has  he  come  from  some  civilized  place  ? "  she 
asked.  "  Will  he  take  back  a  message  from  me  to 
my  friends  ? " 

*'  It's  hard  of  yon  to  be  so  down  on  us,  to  want  to 
get  off  so  quick  again,  Miss  Howard."  As  Hamilton 
said  this  he  gave  her  what  was  meant  to  be  a  sweet 
smile. 

When  the  dwarf  came  in  he  echoed  the  same 
sentiment. 

"  My  f  wiend  Hamilton  ith  a  thowough  gentleman, 
Mith  Howard,  a  thowough  gentleman,  I  athure  you." 

They  both  sat  down  at  some  distance  from  her. 
The  result  of  their  counsel  was  this  amicable  call. 
Inwardly  she  laughed;  if  the  laughter  was  bitter  it 
was  at  least  of  genuine  amusement.  After  three  days 
of  solitude  the  excitement  of  this  encounter  was  a 
strong  stimulant ;  she  was  too  weak  for  it ;  it  was  like 
drinking  wine  when  faint  for  lack  of  food ;  it  went  to 
her  head.  It  was  true  that  she  bent  her  energies  to 
walk  steadily  over  any  pitfall,  but  she  did  not  walk 
so  steadily  as  she  would  have  done  without  the  in- 
toxicant. 

"  It's  hard  upon  us  you  should  always  be  thinking 
about  going.  You  are  not  well  enough  to  yet,  and, 
upon  my  word,  it's  hard  on  us  to  think  of  losing  the 
honour  of  looking  after  you" — this  was  Hamilton. 


120 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


"Besides,  'pon  my  soul  and  honour,  there  isn't  any 
way  for  you  to  get  out  till  the  snow  goes.  There's  a 
hridge  on  the  line  that  you  couldn't  keep  your  head 
to  walk  over — about  two  hundred  feet  of  perpendicu- 
lar space  between  each  cross  log ;  and  as  to  the  road, 
since  this  last  snowstorm  there  are  drifts  six  feet 
deep,  'pon  my  honour.  Awfully  sorry  to  keep  you 
here  against  your  will,  but  it's  what  you  might  call 
Providence  that  is  doing  it." 

After  all,  she  had  no  reason  to  know  tliat  it  was 
not  true. 

He  went  on  a  little  more  hastily,  as  if  anxious  to 
avert  the  grief  she  might  naturally  feel  at  his  state- 
ment so  far. 

"  It  may  seem  hard  upon  you,  but  really  we'll  be 
stunningly  good  to  you.  It's  not  half  a  bad  life.  Miss 
Howard ;  'pon  my  word,  it  isn't.  You've  not  a  no- 
tion, for  instance,  what  a  line  climate  it  is.  You'd  be 
quite  queen  of  us  all  here  if  you  could  think  of  stay- 
ing with  us  now."  The  "  now  "  was  used  as  a  tenta- 
tive word,  not  as  an  adverb  of  time. 

"Beauty  and  talent  and  piety  would  thcore  twe- 
mendouthly  in  a  plathe  like  thith." 

She  was  getting  so  angry  she  could  not  contain 
herself.  She  stood  up  and  faced  them  both  with 
flashing  eyes,  and  lips  drawn  tense  with  nervous  ex- 
citement. 

"  How  dare  you  ?    Do  you  call  yourselves  gentle- 


TQE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


121 


men  ?  Do  jou  call  yourselves  men  ?  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that  if  one  of  you  were  in  need  of  help  you 
couldn't  stop  the  train  or  get  to  the  station  ?  Do  one 
of  those  things  for  me  now,  and  I  will  believe  that 
you  are  trying  to  help  me." 

Her  voice  quivered  and  failed.  She  felt  instinc- 
tively that  the  calm  and  outwardly  kind  remonstrance 
which  they  both  addressed  to  her  was  the  worst  indi- 
cation of  the  condition  of  their  wills  towards  her. 
Her  wrath  was  an  expected  thing,  therefore  it  did  not 
move  them ;  it  was  part  of  their  plan. 

They  continued  to  go  on  explaining  to  her,  in 
rough,  terse  phrases,  what  a  jovial  life  they  led,  and 
what  a  high  position  any  beautiful  and  pious  woman 
who  should  join  them  in  it  would  have.  With 
phrases  gathered  from  such  literature  as  happened  to 
have  found  its  way  into  their  memories,  they  drew  a 
picture  of  what  she  might  become,  which  was  a  queer 
mixture  of  a  local  divinity  and  a  popular  barmaid. 
She  had  time  to  school  herself ;  anger  would  not 
serve  her.     She  had  not  yet  tried  genial  management. 

She  forgot  her  artificial  dignity  of  demeanor. 

"  Look  here ;  is  there  any  one  here  who  will  stop 
the  train  for  me  to-night  for  money,  and  how  much 
will  he  ask  ?  I  will  give  my  word  that  he  shall  have 
what  he  asks  as  soon  as  I  get  to  my  *'riends." 

They  told  her,  with  protestations,  that  if  it  was 
possible  to  stop  the  train  they  would  not  ask  for 


122 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


money,  but  they  hoped  she  would  consider  the  pain  it 
would  give  them  to  part  with  her.  This  pain  was 
supposed  to  be  principally  suffered  by  Hamilton. 
The  dwarf  depicted  his  friend's  sufferings  in  such  a 
case  quite  graphically.  He  said  that  blight  and  mil- 
dew would  fall  upon  his  heart. 

The  interview  lasted  some  time  longer.  She  be- 
came aware  that  the  men,  while  they  were  improving 
their  time  by  arguing  with  her,  were  in  a  restless 
state,  as  if  waiting  for  something  to  happen.  This, 
considering  the  surroundings  of  the  place,  seemed  so 
very  strange,  that  it  aroused  fresh  apprehension  in 
her  mind. 

At  length  there  was  a  sound  as  of  some  one  travel- 
ling up  the  hill.  No  sooner  had  it  fallen  upon  their 
ears  than  the  two  men,  so  oddly  dissimilar  in  size  and 
shape,  began  to  bow  themselves  out  of  the  room  with 
as  much  haste  as  was  consistent  with  their  notion  of 
what  would  be  agreeable  to  her. 

She  let  them  go  without  a  word ;  she  was  filled 
with  a  wonder  to  know  what  it  might  all  mean. 

Some  horses  were  certainly  coming  up  the  wind- 
ing road  of  the  gully.  The  sound  of  voices  shouting 
to  announce  an  arrival  was  heard.  Mary  stood  at  the 
window. 

It  flashed  across  her  mind  now,  for  the  first  time, 
that  since  the  previous  morning  she  had  not  seen  the 
blue-eyed  old  man.     The  gait  with  which  Hamilton 


, 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


123 


and  the  dwarf  walked  away  suggested  that  the  arrival 
was  expected  by  them,  and,  if  so,  they  must  assuredly 
have  sent  some  one  out  as  messenger. 

Kiding  over  the  edge  of  the  plain  from  the  moun- 
tain road  a  small  cavalcade  appeared — three  persons  on 
horseback — and  two  of  them  kept  up  a  strange  for- 
eign-sounding succession  of  shouts  or  singing,  as  if  it 
was  their  habitual  manner  of  announcing  their  exist- 
ence to  the  surrounding  air. 

About  halfway  along  the  road  which  skirted  the 
edge  of  the  plateau  the  two  men  who  were  walking 
met  the  three  who  were  riding.  They  all  came  on  to- 
gether. 

When  they  came  nearer  she  perceived  that  the 
blue-eyed  old  man  was  one  of  the  riders.  At  this  her 
heart  sank  very  much.  The  strangers,  then,  had  been 
sent  for  by  Hamilton  ;  they  were  not  her  friends. 

The  man  who  rode  first  at  the  head  of  the  party 
wore  long  hair  falling  under  his  fur  cap ;  he  also  wore 
a  long  black  cloak.  She  could  not  think,  at  first,  what 
this  long  black  garment  reminded  her  of,  for  it  was 
certainly  very  different  from  anything  else  she  had 
seen  in  these  wilds.  The  man  who  rode  immediately 
behind  him  was  dressed  more  after  the  manner  of  the 
other  men,  but  with  a  distinctly  less  civilized  sugges- 
tion about  his  clothes. 

They  all  came  nearer,  came  into  what  might  be 
called  the  yard  in  front  of  the  three  huts.    When  the 


it 


124 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


large  black-coated  man  ^ot  down  from  his  pony,  she 
saw  that  his  clothes,  ill-fitting  and  grotesque  in  their 
adaptation  to  the  needs  of  the  place  and  season,  still 
bore  enough  evidence  of  clerical  cut  to  mark  the  man 
as  a  priest.  She  remembered  suddenly  that  twice  in 
the  conversations  of  Hamilton  and  the  cynic  she  had 
overheard  a  reference  to  a  certain  "  Father  "  who  lived 
at  a  settlement  of  Cree  Indians.  The  reference  at 
both  times  had  had  a  certain  relation  to  herself. 

She  perceived  that  both  Hamilton  and  the  dwarf 
paid  a  bland  deferential  attention  to  the  priest.  They 
appeared  to  be  making  the  most  courteous  offers  of 
rest  and  refreshment;  they  were  quite  assiduous  in 
their  attention  to  him,  the  pony,  and  a  bundle  he  had 
brought  upon  it  which  appeared  to  be  his  luggage. 
The  priest,  who  took  a  sincere  interest  in  the  disposal 
of  his  luggage,  looked  up  once  at  her  window  before 
he  went  into  the  huts.  He  looked  as  if  he  expected 
her  to  make  some  sign  of  greeting,  but,  after  he  had 
contemplated  her  immobile  face  for  a  moment,  he  took 
off  his  hat.  His  head  was  bald  ;  it  had  a  dome-like 
top,  and  the  brow  was  narrow.  His  face,  although  it 
indicated  good  living,  was  not  sensuous.  The  other 
stranger  was  a  tall,  lithe,  sinewy  man,  with  a  dark 
complexion;  probably  he  was,  in  part  at  least,  an 
Indian. 

When  they  had  all  entered  the  other  hut  she  con- 
tinued to  stand  looking  out.    Excitement  was  giving 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


125 


like 


hor  back  her  strength.  Beyond  the  foreground  of  the 
plateau  was  a  gulf  of  air ;  beyond  that,  the  wonderful 
slopes  and  peaks  of  the  sunlit  mountains.  The  high 
mountain,  in  which  in  some  strange  way  she  liad 
learnt  to  feel  a  sense  of  pioperty,  was  in  sight,  lower- 
ing against  the  blue.  It  was  the  first  time  since  uoing 
imprisoned  in  this  room  that  she  had  dared  to  stand 
at  the  window  in  daylight  long  enough  to  drink  in  any 
thought  or  sentiment  from  the  landscape.  Now  she 
felt  again  that  there  was  something  in  this  spectacle 
which  drew  her,  as  it  were,  from  transient  things  to 
some  eternal  point  of  vantage  from  which  the  things 
of  life  took  on  a  proportion  and  rolation  other  than 
that  in  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to  view  them. 
It  was  not  that  the  things  of  life  seemed  less  impor- 
tant as  seen  from  the  heights  of  the  sublime — not  less, 
but  more  important,  infinitely  more ;  but,  the  stress, 
the  importance,  adhered  to  those  of  them  which  before 
had  appeared  insignificant,  and  the  things  which  be- 
fore had  seemed  to  her  important  dwindled  into  noth- 
ingness. Mary  turned  away  restlessly ;  she  felt  that 
she  had  been  entrapped  for  a  second  time  into  thoughts 
which  she  had  least  need  of  just  then.  She  needed 
all  her  practical  faculties,  all  her  earthly  sense  ;  in  the 
rest  of  her  life  she  might  have  leisure  for  spiritual 
consideration,  but  not  now. 

For  an  hour  or  more  she  had  perceived  a  very 

savoury  smell  of  cocking  from  the  men's  hut,  and 
9 


126 


THE   MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


slic  now  supposed  that  some  sort  of  a  feast  was  going 
forward. 

Sick  with  the  odour  of  a  meal  which  she  knew  to 
be  the  sign  and  seal  of  some  paction  inimical  to  her- 
self, she  walked  restlessly  from  the  window  through 
which  the  mountain  cast  its  spell,  to  the  further  win- 
dow through  which,  so  far,  she  had  only  stood  to  gaze 
at  night.  She  looked  down  into  the  gully  fraught 
with  its  fairy  palace  of  delicate  device.  The  water- 
fall in  the  daylight  was  tinged  with  grey,  because  of 
the  floating  ice  particles ;  the  ethereal  flame  could 
just  be  seen,  and  no  more,  as  the  ghost  of  a  new 
moon  can  just  be  seen  in  the  daylight.  She  could  see 
now  down  the  line  of  the  gully  to  the  valley  of  the 
notch  below.  It  encouraged  her  that  in  the  daylight 
she  could  see  the  huts  and  the  sluice  troughs  of  the 
digging  clearly ;  they  did  not  seem  so  very  far  away 
in  the  clear  air.  She  could  even  see  men  moving 
about  them. 

This  window  looked  upon  the  blind  wall  of  the 
hut  where  the  men  were  eating,  upon  the  gully  of 
the  stream  and  the  valley.  She  wondered  if  it  might 
not  at  this  moment  be  wisest  to  swing  herself  down 
upon  the  beautiful  but  cruelly  sharp  masses  of  icicles, 
and,  creeping  from  one  icy  rock  to  another,  gain  the 
road,  and  fly  again  to  the  men  in  the  notch  below  for 
protection.  Nothing  but  the  fearful  danger  to  life 
and  limb,  the  certain  laceration   of  hands  and  feet 


som 

slie 

woai 

aJan 

seric 


TlIK  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


127 


the 

nglit 
lown 
licles, 
the 
for 
life 
feet 


wliich  such  a  descent  would  involve,  kept  her  from 
this  instant  flight.  The  thought  of  the  homago 
which  the  rough  men  in  those  distant  huts  had  paid 
her  was  so  welcome,  so  inexpressihly  sweet  and  wel- 
come to  her  heart  after  the  rude  familiarities  of  tho 
morning,  that  she  would  gladly  go  through  much 
misery  to  seek  it. 

In  her  idleness  she  fell  again  into  transient  reflec- 
tion. Tho  superstition  of  these  men,  because  it  had 
saved  her,  and  she  believed  it  might  again  save  her, 
bad  a  beauty  for  her.  She  began  to  search  for  the 
cause  of  this  beauty.  It  did  not  accrue  to  the  super- 
stition solely  on  account  of  her  own  petty  individual 
convenience ;  she  felt  that  to  look  at  anything  in  that 
liijht  showed  a  lack  of  culture.  For  some  moments 
her  thoughts  pursued  hard  after  the  ideal  lying  be- 
hind the  belief. 

She  turned  restlessly  away  from  that  window 
also ;  she  had  an  odd  feeling  that  the  mountain,  its 
sublime  purity  and  its  power  to  wield  a  spell,  had 
come  round  to  that  western  side   within   her   view 


agam. 


It  seemed  that  after  the  men's  meal  had  come 
some  form  of  siesta,  for  an  hour  passed  and  still 
she  heard  no  further  sound.  She  was  idle,  she  was 
weary,  and  she  grew  more  and  more  reasonably 
alarmed  for  herself,  having  time  to  realize  that  some 
serious  purpose  must  be  entertained  with  regard  to  her. 


im 


128 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


She  now  took  the  packet  of  valuables  from  her 
bosom  to  consider  its  contents  and  conceal  them  more 
carefully.  The  purse  of  money  and  the  diamond 
had  been  loosely  rolled  with  such  treasures  as  she  had 
thrust  into  her  dress  in  the  sleeping-car,  supposing 
them  to  be  safer  than  in  her  berth.  The  chief  of 
these  was  a  silver  cigarette-case.  She  handled  it  for 
a  moment  as  if  it  were  a  curiosity,  it  seemed  so  long 
since  she  had  last  seen  it.  Then  she  found  herself 
looking  hastily  through  the  windows  to  make  sure 
that  no  one  was  spying  upon  her.  She  wanted  to 
smoke  a  cigarette  ;  it  seemed  exactly  what  she  wanted 
most  in  this  terrible  hour  of  waiting.  Instead  of 
doing  so,  she  wrapped  up  the  case  ir^ost  carefully, 
and  concealed  it  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  her  gown, 
not  even  risking  it  with  the  other  things  which  she 
thought  might  be  demanded  from  her.  It  was  two 
hours  before  she  heard  the  door  of  the  other  hut 
open  and  the  men  emerge.  They  did  not  loiter; 
they  came  straight  toward  her  door.  "When  they  saw 
her  at  the  window  they  all  took  off  their  hats.  This 
studied  politeness  seemed  like  the  opening  of  some 
new  relationship  with  her. 


CHAPTEE  XY. 


Hamilton  came  in  for  a  minute  by  himself,  leav- 
ing the  others  standing  outside.  She  faced  him  with 
a  full  keen  look.  He  looked  at  her  also,  but  as  if  he 
made  an  effort  and  would  rather  have  looked  away. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  tell  you  that  we  have 
been  able  to  fetch  a  friend  for  you.  He's  a  mission- 
ary, and  has  come  a  long  way  to  consult  what  will  be 
best  to  do  for  you." 

"  I  feel  mucli  better  to-day,"  she  replied.  "  I 
shall  be  quite  strong  enough  to-morrow  morning  to 
ride  or  drive  to  Ked  Keil."  She  wished  to  show 
that  she  saw  no  need  for  the  priest  or  for  the  dis- 
cussion. 

When  he  had  shifted  his  feet  he  said,  "  We 
tliought  that  you  would  rather  have  the  priest  here. 
Hq  can  hear  all  that  we  say  and  all  that  you  say,  you 
know.  You'll  feel  more  confidence  in  him,  naturally, 
than  in  us  rough  fellows.  I've  tried,  of  course,  to  be 
kind  to  you  as  far  as  I  could,  but  you  naturally  don't 
put  much  faith  in  me."     He  gave  a  slight  deprecat- 


ing smile. 


II 


129 


130  THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 

The  evident  fact  that  behind  his  words  another 
purpose  was  engrossing  his  mind  caused  her  in  a  flash 
to  divine  that  j)urpose.  Her  blood  ran  slow  and  cold. 
This  man,  on  whose  notions  of  honour  she  had  so  far 
depended,  had  brought  the  priest  to  try  and  force  a 
marriage  upon  her.  Then,  with  the  rushing  reaction  t^ 
of  her  pulses,  she  knew  the  necessity  of  concealing 
her  terror.  She  knew,  too,  what  she  must  do — the 
only  course  she  could  take  which  might  save  her. 

She  took  his  last  words  simply  as  if  he  meant 
them.     She  answered  with  an  accent  of  surprise. 

"  Why  do  you  think  I  do  not  trust  you  ?  I  have 
trusted  you  entirely  ;  you  have  been  so  kind.  I  trust 
you  more  than  I  do  the  priest  or  the  little  man." 
She  supposed  that  her  fate  hung  absolutely  upon  the 
motion  of  this  man's  will ;  only  to  see  him  among 
other  men  was  to  know  that  his  will  would  be  law. 
Therefore  she  repeated,  "  It  is  you  I  trust."  She 
knew  that  these  words  were  more  unwelcome  to  him 
than  any  other  she  could  have  used. 

Unwelcome,  yet  he  pretended  that  they  were  very      I       ^^ 
welcome.  I       ^^'' 

"I  am  deucedly  glad  that  you  trust  me."  He 
looked  at  her,  as  it  seemed,  with  gratitude  and  pro- 
tective kindliness  in  his  hard  face.  "  It's  better  for 
you  that  the  priest  should  be  here.  You  don't  know 
much  of  the  world."  He  said  this  with  evident  be- 
lief in  his  tone. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


131 


?> 


|ery 

He 

)ro- 
for 

lOW 

be- 


A  hysterical  laugh  swelled  her  bosom.  He  was 
the  first  man  who  for  a  good  many  years  had  told 
her  that  she  did  not  know  the  world,  she  who  prided 
herself  on  knowing  it. 

To  her  surprise,  Hamilton,  with  the  stiff  polite- 
ness of  an  old  minuet-dancer,  just  took  her  hand  and 
respectfully  led  her  to  a  seat  at  one  side  of  the  room. 
The  courtesy  was  exaggerated.  The  act  was  signifi- 
cant.    It  was  the  beginning  of  a  ceremony. 

A  minute  more  and  Hamilton  had  brought  in  the 
other  men.  They  each  bowed  to  her  with  outward 
deference,  each  in  his  own  way  staring  at  her  with 
furtive  curiosity.  Hamilton  found  seats  for  the 
priest  and  the  dwarf ;  he  placed  them  on  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  so  that  there  remained  a  wide  space 
between  the  girl  and  her  visitors.  The  blue-eyed 
old  man  and  the  half-breed  stood  behind  the  priest ; 
the  other  old  man  did  not  come  in.  Hamilton  stood 
at  one  end  of  the  group  nearer  to  Mary. 

The  priest  cleared  his  throat.  He  had  been  re- 
garding her  all  the  time  from  under  his  shaggy  eye- 
brows. He  seemed  to  expect  that  his  smallest  word 
would  be  of  vast  importance. 

"  I  hope  that  mademoiselle  finds  herself  a  leetle 
better." 

He  was  evidently  French,  but  she  did  not  take 
the  trouble  to  offer  to  speak  French  to  him.  She 
thanked  him,  explaining  concisely  that  she  had  felt 


.ji 


I 


132  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

extremely  ill,  but  tliat  to-morrow  she  would  be  stroug 
enough  to  go  as  far  as  the  nearest  station  of  the 
railway. 

The  priest  cleared  his  throat  again.  Except  for 
that  he  sat  immobile. 

"  Ah,  I  regret  to  tell  you  that  there  is  for  that        t 
two  difficulties."     He  lookeu  at  her  with  an  air  of 
commiseration,  and   then   he    looked   indolently  at 
Hamilton,  as  if  he  did  not  wish  to  take  the  trouble  of 
explaining  further. 

In  a  minute  Hamilton  began  to  talk;  he  had 
evidently  conned  his  speech. 

"  Father  Paul  says  there  are  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  your  leaving  this  place  at  the  present  time. 
You  see  there's  been  what's  commonly  called  a  big 
row  between  the  fellows  at  the  Flume  and  the 
heathen  Johnnies  that  you  honoured  with  a  visit  the 
day  before  yesterday.  There's  a  deuced  lot  of  bad 
blood  between  them,  and  the  only  thing  they've  got 
clear  in  all  their  stupid  heads  is  that  you  are  at  the 
bottom  of  it ;  so  they've  all  taken  to  taking  your 
name  in  vain,  and  falling  upon  one  another,  tooth 
and  nail,  because  they  can't  all  agree.  Some  at  the 
Flume  say  that  you  are  an  angel."  He  made  her  a 
low  bow  with  what  was  meant  to  be  an  admiring 
smile.  "  That,  of  course,  being  the  fact,  it's  odd  that 
any  one  should  give  the  lie  to  it;  but  the  wicked 
Chinamen  say  you  are  a  witch,  and  that  you  spirited 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


133 


big 

tlie 

the 
ad 

got 

the 

our 

otli 

the 

r  a 

ing 

hat 

ked 

ited 


away  a  live  cow  and  a  dead  ox — strange  fancy  that, 
isn't  it  ?  Some  of  our  men,  again,  give  you  a  char- 
acter by  no  means  so  exalted  as  either  of  those.  It's 
got  about  among  them  all  that  you've  got  a  big  dia- 
mond— one  that  would  make  the  fortune  of  half  a 
dozen  men — which  of  course  is  not  true ;  the  stone 
you  have  is  not  worth  very  much." 

His  voice  dropped  here.  He  stopped  as  if  there 
was  nothing  more  to  say  at  the  moment,  no  doubt  to 
give  her  time  to  betray  what  emotion  she  felt. 

She  had  risen,  and  stood  up  before  them,  clasp- 
ing and  unclasping  her  hands,  not  with  an  appearance 
of  weakness  but  of  pent-up  strength. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said.  "  What  more 
have  you  to  tell  ? " 

Hamilton  put  on  an  appearance  of  kindly  embar- 
rassment. 

"  My  f  wiend  Hamilton,"  said  the  dwarf,  *'  wanth 
the  moth  beautiful  of  young  ladieth  to  give  him 
leave  to  knock  thothe  fellowth  down  who  thay 
that  the  moth  beautiful  of  young  ladieth  ithn't  an 
angel."    . 

"  Mademoiselle  will  comprehend  that  there  is  no 
law — that  the  snow  is  deep."  The  words  came  in  a 
deep  slow  voice  from  the  immobile  priest. 

Hamilton  began  again  in  the  same  kindly  explana- 
tory way ;  he  was  evidently  making  an  immense 
effort  to  use  language  not  profane. 


134 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


"  The  Chinamen  have  said  it  already.  They  have 
sworn  that  when  you  visited  them  you  were  my  wife. 
They  have  been  assaulted  and  beaten  by  our  men 
because  of  the  theft  of  the  cow  and  the  beef.  They 
would  not  dare  to  touch  my  wife,  or  to  speak  against 
her ;  but  they  told  the  priest  as  he  came  past — they 
said  that  if  you  were  not  my  wife  they  would  have 
revenge.  *  Revenge,'  I  think,  is  the  best  term  for 
what  they  threatened;  if  I  told  you  their  threats, 
your  hair  would  turn  grey — it  would  be  a  pity  to 
turn  such  pretty  hair  grey." 

"The  colour  of  Beauty'th  hair  muth  be  pwe- 
therved,"  murmured  the  dwarf. 

"  Mademoiselle  will  understand  that  to  each  place 
is  its  own  code  of  honour.  A  man's  wife  she  is 
what  you  call  sacree  /  but  a  woman  who  is  no  man's 
wife,  ah,  it  is  for  the  holy  saints  to  help  her ! " 

She  h  ked  about  upon  them  with  a  sweeping 
glance.  It  was  growing  dusk ;  the  twilight  and  the 
firelight  mingled  upon  the  log  walls,  upon  the  rude 
wooden  furniture,  upon  the  straw  bed  on  which  she 
had  tossed  during  the  three  previous  days,  upon  the 
I  little  company  of  uncouth  men  arrayed  before  her. 
There  was  light  enough  to  see  their  faces  clearly 
enough — the  thin  sardonic  face  of  the  dwarf  filled 
with  suffering  and  bitterness,  the  dome-like  head  and 
faratical  face  of  the  priest,  the  blue  eyes  of  the  old 
man,  the  brown  passive  features  of  the  Indian,  and 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


135 


IS 


the 
lude 
slie 
the 

ler. 

irly 
llled 

and 
old 

and 


Hamilton  standing  beside  them  like  one  of  Nature's 
princes,  and  haughty,  clever  as  one  of  the  fallen 
angels. 

She  let  them  see  the  swelh'ng  of  her  bosom,  the 
strength  of  the  passion  which  she  could  keep  under 
control. 

"  Gentleman,  I  do  not  understand  you.  What  is 
this  talk  about  a  wife  ?  It  is  nothing  to  me  that  a 
few  poor  Chinamen  made  a  silly  mistake.  I  do  not 
understand  you  at  all." 

"  Take  a  seat,"  said  Hamilton.  "  Don't  be  fright- 
ened. We'll  lay  our  lives  upon  it  that  we'll  protect 
you,  Miss  Howard." 

She  moved  further  away  from  them,  standing,  as 
it  were,  at  bay. 

"  I've  kept  you  snug  and  safe  so  far,"  said  Hamil- 
ton. "You  see,  I  was  sharp  enough  to  hide  you 
here  before  they  were  on  your  track.  D'you  know 
what's  kept  you  safe  these  three  days?  Nothing 
more  nor  less  than  that  this  place  gets  the  name  of 
being  a  trifle  ghostly.  You  see,  there's  coal  some- 
where half  a  mile  underneath,  and  the  gas  escapes 
through  that  fissure  by  the  stream,  where  you  see  the 
light.  It  makes  a  vile  smell  if  it's  not  kept  burning ; 
and  those  born  asses  below  think  that  the  flame  is  not 
quite  what  it  should  be.  So  this  is  the  last  place 
they'd  look  for  us ;  but,  of  course,  they're  not  such 
idiots  as  to  keep  off  much  longer." 


136 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said ;  "  at  least,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  any  one  but  the  Chinese.  There  is  not  one 
of  the  men  whom  I  saw  the  other  night  who  would 
hurt  an  innocent  defenceless  girl  who  appeals  to  him 
for  protection."  She  spoke  out  fearlessly ;  she  had 
drawn  herself  up  to  her  full  height. 

"I  wish  it  were  as  you  think,"  said  Hamilton, 
gloomily.     li  a  looked  down  at  his  feet. 

The  dwarf  sighed  audibly. 

The  priest,  speaking  his  periodical  remarks,  re- 
minded her  of  an  automaton  that  was  wound  up. 

"Mademoiselle  will  see  that  these  gentlemen,  so 
good  to  have  saved  her  life,  could  not  tell  a  lie." 

"  What  then  ? "  she  asked  solemnly.  *'  If  it  is  as 
you  say,  what  then  ? " 

"  I  told  you  that  those  low  devils  at  the  Flume 
had  two  minds,"  said  Hamilton.  "  But  look  you, 
one's  as  bad  as  the  other  for  you  ;  for  the  grovelling 
creatures  who  are  looking  for  you  to  pray  to  you, 
when  they  find  you're  a  mere  woman,  will  turn  all  the 
more  nasty  for  that  pleasant  little  surprise  ;  and  as  to 
the  others" He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  studi- 
ously looking  away  as  if  not  wishing  to  offend  her. 

"  My  fwiend  Hamilton  hath  ektherted  himthelf, 
hath  defended  Beauty'th  hut  at  the  withk  of  hith  life 
until  our  old  fwiend  here  could  bwing  the  pwietht. 
Old  fwiend  hath  climbed  the  mountainth  and 
bought  the  pwietht  fwom  another  valley.     Conduct 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


137 


SO 


as 


fon, 
the 
s  to 
udi- 

• 

lelf, 
life 

}tht. 
and 

Iduct 


of  both  motht  hewoic.  Beauty,  by  cunning  and 
cauwage  ith  pwetherved  tho  far.  It  now  only 
wemainth  for  Beauty  to  thave  hertlielf.  Hard  on 
Beauty,  no  doubt,  but  nethethawy." 

The  priest  now  gave  a  wooden  smile,  as  if  for  that, 
too,  he  had  been  wound  up.  lie  addressed  the 
wooden  smile  directly  to  her  ;  she  felt  that  an  image 
had  leered  upon  her. 

"  Mademoiselle  will  see  that  this  gentleman  has 
ze  desire  to  make  laughter.  To  have  so  good  and  so 
handsome  a  husband  will  be  pleasurable  to  mademoi- 
selle." 

She  let  her  accents  tremble  through  the  room, 
broken  and  frightened. 

"  I  do  not  understand.  Oh !  what  is  it  you  are 
trying  to  say  to  me  ? " 

It  seemed  that  Hamilton  had  done  with  his  efforts 
at  extreme  politeness. 

"  Well,  just  this ;  these  fellows  may  come  here  to- 
night, or  they  may  come  to-morrow  morning.  It  may 
be  the  heathen  devils,  or  it  may  be  the  miners,  that 
come  first.  Whichever  it  is,  there's  more  of  them 
than  of  us,  and  they'll  kick  us  out  without  saying,  '  If 
you  please.'  You  see,  they  wouldn't  allow  that  any  of 
us  had  any  right  to  stand  between  you  and  them,  as 
things  are  now.  You've  got  to  get  married  ;  you'v^e 
got  to  marry  one  of  us.  That's  a  thing  that's  under- 
stood hereabout.     A  man  has  a  right  to  a  wife  if  he 


138 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


chooses  to  feed  her  and  keep  her.  Public  opinion  backs 
him  up  in  it,  you  see.  Not  one  of  them  will  dare  to 
touch  you  and  your  diamond  when  the  priest  has  liad 
out  his  book.  It  may  be  hard  on  you,  as  my  friend 
here  remarks ;  but  it's  the  only  way  of  saving  your- 
self, and  the  quicker  it's  done  the  better." 

Finding  the  need  of  some  fierce  action  at  the  end 
of  this  speech,  he  strode  across  to  the  fireplace  and 
gave  the  logs  a  kick.  The  whole  room  was  brightly 
illuminated  by  the  blaze. 

Mary  had  retreated  to  the  wall.  She  stood  before 
them  speechless,  her  hands  clasped  upon  her  breast, 
staring  with  frightened  eyes. 

"  My  f  wiend  Hamilton  generwotlily  givth  Beauty 
her  choith,"  said  the  dwarf. 

The  priest  spoke.  "  Mademoiselle  will  see  that 
this  gentleman,  so  good  and  kind,  is  very  modest.  He 
offers  to  mademoiselle  most  nobly  his  name  and  pro- 
tection ;  yet  he  would  not  make  much  of  this  kind- 
ness. He  says  to  mademoiselle,  ^Choose.'  Ah,  he 
is  teemid  ! " 

It  seemed  that,  though  all  the  plot  had  turned  upon 
it,  Hamilton  could  not  refrain  from  a  short  harsh 
laugh  at  this  representation  of  himself.  When  he  had 
given  vent  to  it  he  turned  to  Mary. 

"  In  short,  my  dear,  so  far  from  sacrificing  myself, 
I  shall  take  great  pleasure  in  annexing  you.  But  I 
don't  expect  that  to  stand  for  a  row  of  pins  in  your 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


139 


ipon 

larsli 

had 


eyes.  The  point  is,  that  you  have  no  choice.  These 
villains  may  come  on  us  any  hour,  and  we're  none  of 
us  going  to  die  like  dogs  fighting  for  you,  when  we 
can  settle  the  whole  matter  by  a  simple  little  cere- 
mony." He  had  said  this  standing  looking  into  her 
face,  very  much  as  he  had  peered  into  it  the  first  night. 
Now,  without  gaining  any  satisfaction  from  her  white 
downcast  features,  he  turned  suddenly.  "Bring  on 
your  book,"  he  said  to  the  priest. 


rself, 

iut  I 

jyour 


CHAPTER   XVI. 


Mary  saw  that  the  men  were  beginning  to  form 
themselves  in  a  group  near  her.  She  was  willing  to 
appear  for  the  moment  speechless  with  consternation, 
and  she  was  in  very  truth  speechless,  not  knowing 
how  to  control  her  voice  and  manner  for  the  role 
which  art  taught  her  to  play.  There  was  a  minute's 
dispute  among  them  ;  it  gave  her  respite. 

Her  mind  surveyed  like  a  flash  the  surrounding 
scenery  as  she  had  seen  it  that  afternoon — the  glory 
of  the  ice  mountains,  the  snow-muffled  solitude  of 
the  hill  on  which  she  was,  the  apparent  peace  of  the 
valley.  She  could  not  tell  how  far  these  men  had 
lied  to  her ;  that  they  had  lied  was  evident ;  it  was  a 
plot,  but  truth  might  lie  behind.  She  herself  had 
overheard  the  Chinaman  call  her  this  man's  wife, 
and  she  had  heard  the  dwarf  tell  of  the  battle  that 
ensued  upon  Hamilton's  robbery.  Yet  her  heart 
threw  in  its  lot  eagerly  with  the  unknown  danger. 
It  was  the  known  peril  which  she  must  fight. 

Her  lack  of  high  perception  made  it  impossible 

140 


"Al 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


141 


lory 

of 

the 

Iliad 

las  a 
had 
rife, 
that 

lieart 
iger. 


for  her  to  act  the  part  she  desired  perfectly,  but  she 
acted  well  enough  for  her  audience.  She  found  the 
pose  of  the  head  which  she  desired.  She  stood  be- 
fore them  shrinking  yet  calm,  with  swelling  bosom, 
but  with  steadfast  mien.  She  lifted  her  controversy 
with  them  into  a  region  above  the  mere  question  of 
whether  she  would  or  would  not  do  their  bidding. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  you 
mean  kindly  to  me.  I  am  thankful  for  the  protec- 
tion you  have  afforded  me  so  far.  If  you  think  that 
my  remaining  here  longer  will  bring  danger  upon 
you,  T  will  go  away  now,  alone.  I  am  not  afraid, 
however  great  the  dangers  may  be.  God  will  pro- 
tect me.  This  marriage  which  you  suggest" — her 
voice  choked  her  for  a  moment,  the  very  word  "  mar- 
riage" was  so  odious — "is  quite  impossible.  It 
would  be  no  marriage.  I  have  been  taught  to  be- 
lieve that  a  marriage  must  be  solemnized  in  church, 
and  by  a  priest  of  my  own  religion.  While  I  claim 
protection  from  Heaven  I  cannot  do  what  is  wrong." 

The  men  had  looked  at  her,  and  listened. 

"  You  know,  my  dear  young  lady,"  said  Hamilton, 
"  that  is  very  pretty  talk  ;  but  it  won't  save  you,  and 
it  won't  save  us  from  being  kicked  on  your  account 
if  we  go  on  trying  to  take  care  of  you  as  matters 
stand." 

She  overacted  her  part,  but  they  did  not  see  it. 

"Ah,  do  not  speak  to  me  that  way,"  she  said.     "I 
IQ 


142 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


am  so  young ;  I  am  so  weak ;  I  am  so  defenceless. 
Do  you  think  that  any  good  will  ever  come  to  any  of 
you  again  if  you  force  me  to  do  what  I  know  to  be 
wrong  ? " 

She  had  a  sense  that  all  the  men  except  Hamilton 
and  the  priest  were  now  beginning  to  enjoy  them- 
selves. They  had  expected  a  dramatic  scene,  and  so 
far  had  been  disappointed.  Hamilton  and  the  priest, 
then,  were  the  only  responsible  agents,  for  in  them 
irritation  at  the  delay  was  visible. 

"Wemarked  before,  it  comtli  hawd  on  Beauty," 
said  the  dwarf. 

Hamilton  jostled  him  with  a  muttered  exe- 
cration. 

"  It's  all  very  well " — he  spoke  in  tones  of  injury 
— "  to  ask  us  not  to  speak  to  you  that  way ;  but  when 
a  man's  got  his  leg  smashed  it  has  to  be  cut  off  to 
save  his  life.  If  he  cries  out  that  it's  cruel,  that 
doesn't  make  it  cruel." 

"  Mademoiselle  will  see  that  that  which  I  can  do 
to  marry  is  according  to  the  law  of  this  country. 
Afterwards,  monsieur  will  no  doubt  take  madame  to 
another  place,  where  madame  can  again  be  married 
according  to  her  own  Church,  if  she  will.  Voild! 
what  more  can  mademoiselle  desire." 

For  a  moment  her  brain  seemed  to  whirl ;  the 
sense  of  danger  was  subservient  to  the  sense  of  the 
ludicrous.     She  did  not  betray  it ;  it  was  replaced  in 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


143 


75 


do 
itry. 
le  to 


a  moment  by  a  torrent  of  anger  wliicli  she  could  not 
control ;  her  real  self  came  forward  : 

"Cowards!  Yillains!"  she  cried,  her  ejes  glar- 
ing upon  them,  her  little  figure  braced  against  the 
wall.  "  You  have  set  a  plot,  thinking  to  dupe  an 
ignorant  woman.  You  may  kill  me  here  as  I  stand — • 
I  am  in  your  power ;  but  you  wdll  never  succeed  in 
anything  except  in  killing  me,  or  letting  me  go  free." 

She  had  again  the  misery  of  seeing  that  this  out- 
burst seemed  to  relieve  them ;  it  was  what  they  ex- 
pected.    The  nervous  tension  in  the  room  w^as  less. 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Hamilton,  "  that  if  you've  any- 
thing more  of  that  sort  to  say  you'd  better  sa}^  it.  It 
will  do  you  good,  my  dear,  and  you'll  feel  better." 

"  Quite  like  the  thort  of  thingth  they  thay  in 
bookth." 

*'  If  mademoiselle  would  weep,"  said  the  priest, 
"  mademoiselle  would  recover  herself.  She  would 
tlien  see  the  injustice  she  does  to  a  gentleman  so  good 
and  kind." 

She  could  have  gnashed  at  them  with  her  pretty 
teeth;  she  could  have  shaken  her  small  fist  in  their 
faces.  She  did  not  do  so,  because  she  had  the  quick- 
ness to  see  the  futility  of  her  wrath.  There  was  a 
pause,  they  waiting  for  those  methods  for  relieving 
liei^self  which  they  had  commended  to  her  attention, 
slie  rousing  in  herself  all  the  self-control  w^hich  she 
could  muster. 


144: 


THE   MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


Again  remembering  her  acting,  slie  folded  her 
hands,  and  looked  at  them  with  white,  quivering 
face.  , 

"  Gentlemen,  I  was  angry.  Perhaps  I  had  reason, 
but  it  was  childlike  and  foolish.  I  am  very  much 
frightened  of  you.  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  honest ; 
if  you  are,  have  the  kindness  to  let  me  go  away 
alone.  I  will  find  my  way  to  some  one  who  will  pro- 
tect me.  I  am  not  afraid  to  go  out  alone,  because  I 
am  not  afraid  to  die  ;  whether  I  live  or  die  God  will 
protect  me." 

She  spoke  the  words  with  pathos  and  earnestness, 
but  exactly  as  she  would  have  spoken  her  part  in  any 
play  that  contained  such  words.  Of  their  meaning 
with  regard  to  herself  just  then  she  cared  nothing. 

The  men  were  evidently  annoyed  at  the  change. 

"Look  here,"  said  Hamilton,  "that  sort  of  rot 
doesn't  go  for  anything,  you  know ;  it's  just  a  ques- 
tion of  how  long  you  keep  us  standing  here  waiting." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  you  can  intend  to  hurt 
me,"  she  said.  "I  am  alone  and,  as  you  say,  an 
ignorant  girl.  I  am  sure  " — she  looked  at  Hamilton 
— "  yes,  I  am  sure  you  only  wish  to  protect  me  ;  but 
the  way  that  you  have  chosen  I  cannot  possibly  ac- 
cept. It  would  not  be  right  for  me,  knowing  what  I 
do  about  the  sacredness  of  marriage.  I  cannot  *do 
what  is  wrong." 

"  Here's  the  priest  come  all   the  way  over  the 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


145 


rot 


55 


lilton 

ly  ^^" 

Ihat  I 
)t  *clo 


mountain  to  tell  you  that  it's  riglit."  liairiilton 
kicked  his  foot  impatiently. 

She  looked  at  the  priest,  and  shook  her  head  ;  she 
looked  at  Hamilton. 

"  I  cannot  trust  the  priest  as  much  as  I  trust  you. 
lie  is  not  a  priest  of  my  Church,  and  perhaps  he 
has  lived  so  long  among  the  Indians  that  he  has 
forgotten  what  would  be  right  for  a  Christian  girl 
to  do." 

There  was  something  in  the  last  phrase  which 
seemed  to  put  them  at  a  loss  for  a  word.  She 
went  on — 

"  You  are  an  Englishman ;  you  have  had  a 
mother  ;  you  have  perhaps  had  sisters.  If  I  were  a 
sister  of  yours,  would  you  urge  me  to  such  a  mar- 


riage 


«" 


"A  man  doesn't  usually  hanker  after  marrying 
his  own  sister,"  Hamilton  laughed  coarsely,  evading 
her  question  with  the  jest. 

The  little  cackle  of  disagreeable  laughter  that  w^ent 
through  the  group  stimulated  her  into  the  true 
artistic  passion  of  the  actress.  She  was,  for  the  hour, 
the  character  which  she  assumed.  If  excitement 
made  her  too  voluble,  if  she  slipped  sometimes  by 
use  of  stock  phrases  into  false  sentiment,  she  was 
still  in  the  main  inspired  by  such  great  thoughts 
as  were  familiar  to  her  by  reason  of  Christian  inheri- 
tance. 


14G 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


I 


*'  See  !  " — she  held  out  small,  soft  hands — "  see 
how  weak  I  am  I  You  can  quite  easily  murder  me, 
and  liide  my  body  where  no  one  in  the  world  will 
ever  find  it,  and  steal  from  me  the  jewel  that  I  carry, 
the  only  thing  that  I  possess  which  is  of  any  worth. 
But  when  you  have  done  it,  what  then  ?  There  is  a 
God  in  heaven.  Ah !  /  would  have  no  wish  that 
vengeance  should  come  upon  you  because  of  this 
crime  ;  but  God  has  said  that  He  will  protect  the 
innocent  and  punish  the  guilty.  Look  you,  gentle- 
men, if  God  does  not  do  it  just  as  we  think  He 
might,  it  is  because  He  does  it  more  perfectly  than 
we  can  conceive.  He  may  let  you  kill  me ;  but 
what  then  ?  It  would  only  be  to  give  me  the  joy  of 
lieaven  more  quickly,  and  to  give  you  more  quickly 
the  pain  of  hell ;  for  do  you  think  He  would  let  you 
forget  it  ?  The  memory  of  my  death  would  come  to 
you  in  your  dreams ;  you  would  think  you  saw  my 
dead  body  walking  beside  you  in  your  waking  hours ; 
you  would  drink  hard  to  drown  the  thought,  and  in 
that  way  you  would  soon  kill  yourselves.  Think, 
then,  that  the  dying  hour  must  come  to  each  of  you ! 
Think  of  that  hour  now !  If  you  commit  this  crime, 
there  is  not  one  of  you  will  be  innocent ;  and,  when 
you  die,  it  will  stand  between  you  and  any  hope  of 
heaven." 

She  had  spoken  gently,  almost  tenderly,  but  she 
had  spoken  fast.     They  had  let  her  speak  ;  they  had 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


U7 


irs ; 


ehe 
had 


listened,  and,  although  thej  affected  to  deride,  she 
had  the  first  intoxicating  sip  of  ihe  actor's  power. 

"  We're  not  going  to  murder  you  " — Hamilton 
gave  another  short  laugh — "  we're  trying  to  save  you 
from  being  murdered,  my  dear." 

The  priest  shook  his  book,  shook  his  head,  shook 
himself.  "  Qu'elle  est  Mte,^^  he  muttered  between  his 
teeth  ;  then  aloud,  "  Mais^  mademoiselle " 

'•  Beauty  makth  a  mithtake,"  put  in  the  dwarf. 
"  My  fwiend  Hamilton  ith  pothing  ath  hewo,  not  atli 
murdewer.    Thlight  mithtake  that ;  eathily  wectified." 

She  fixed  large  mournful  eyes  full  upon  those  of 
the  dwarf.  The  torrent  of  her  swift  sad  words  was 
addressed  to  him  before  he  could  interrupt. 

"You,  because  you  have  suffered  yourself,  you 
think  to  spend  your  life  making  sport  of  the  suffer- 
ings of  others !  Does  it  make  your  own  pain  less  to 
make  mine  more  ?  •  May  God  forgive  you !  Yet  sure- 
ly in  your  heart  there  is  something  better.  You  have 
a  greater  chance  to  be  good  than  the  rest  of  us,  be- 
cause, with  your  pain  and  weakness,  if  yc  were  kind 
and  good  it  would  stand  for  so  much  in  God's  sight ; 
but  for  you  to  be  spiteful  and  cruel  is  so  easy  that  it 
won't  count  for  much  any  way.  Heaven,  I  suppose, 
will  forgive  your  littleness  of  mind,  and  I  forgive  you, 
I  only  pity  you.  Ah,  there  are  good  women  in  the 
world  who,  if  you  would  only  let  them,  would  fill 
your  life  with  all  the  comforts  that  love  could  devise. 


148 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


You  have  been  a  wicked  man,  and  so  no  good  woman 
has  had  the  cliance  to  care  for  you,  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  love  you  might  have  had,  have  pity  upon  me  now. 
Do  not  add  to  my  misery  by  your  gibes." 

The  dwarf  had  stared  back  at  her,  but  the  expres- 
sion of  his  eyes  had  changed  from  sardonic  rudencF"^ 
to  fascinated  surprise.  He  began  to  murmur  toward 
the  end  that  "  Beauty  made  a  mithtake."  The  words 
were  mechanical ;  he  began,  as  it  seemed,  to  dwell 
upon  some  new  notion  concerning  her. 

Hamilton  had  listened  and  watched  with  interest. 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  you  can  set  him  down,"  he 
said.  "  You'll  be  queen  of  us  all  here,  my  dear,  when 
you  can  find  time  to  let  the  priest  read  his  service ; 
we'll  let  you  preach  to  us  all  day.  Think  what  a  mis- 
sionary you  will  be ! " 

She  turned  upon  him,  not  fiercely,  but  solemnly. 

"  I  will  never  marry  you,  because  it  w^ould  be 
wrong.  I  have  be  en  taught  that  it  is  wicked  to  marry 
for  convenience.  God  does  not  ask  me  to  do  what  is 
wrong.  I  will  not  stay  in  this  place,  even  with  the 
hope  of  doing  you  good.  I  am  too  young  and  ignor- 
ant and  foolish  to  know  how  to  teach  you.  You  think 
that  you  could  keep  me  here  alive  and  against  my  will. 
You  could  not,  for  God  would  certainly  save  me  to 
that  extent ;  He  would  give  me  courage  to  die.  You 
are  not  an  ignorant  man  ;  you  know  what  the  power  of 
faith  is;   you  know  that  weak  women  and  children 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


149 


nly. 

be 

frry 

t  is 

the 

nor- 

link 

ill.' 
e  to 
lYou 
r  of 
ren 


have  endured  all  sorts  of  martyrdom  rather  than  dis- 
obey God.  Look  you ;  I,  a  weak,  defenceless  girl, 
have  this  faith,  and  it  is  stronger  than  your  will  and 
stronger  than  your  physical  strength." 

For  the  first  time  there  was  irresolution  in  his  keen 
eye.  That  which  she  had  said  had  appealed  to  his 
reason.  He  was  aware  that  there  was  such  a  thing  in 
the  world  as  fanaticism  \/hich  no  man  could  master  ; 
besides  that,  the  exaltation  of  her  mood  repelled  him 
where  a  more  common  form  of  opposition  would  have 
only  stimulated  him  to  proceed. 

The  priest  showed  himself  least  sensitive  to  this  big 
word  "  God,"  which  she  was  using  as  her  weapon. 

"  Mademoiselle  will  call  to  mind  that  monsieur 
only  desires  by  this  leetle  service  which  I  can  say  to 
gain  the  right  to  defend  madame.  Yoild!  made- 
moiselle no  doubt  works  off  the  pain  of  it  by  these 
strong  words,  but  at  any  moment  the  enemies  of 
mademoiselle  may  arrive.      Yoild  !  " 

She  turned  upon  the  priest  now.  "When  you 
came  first  to  be  missionary  here,  were  you  a  good 
man  ?  Is  it  by  living  this  wild  life,  finding  that  you 
must  make  some  compromise  with  the  ignorance  about 
you,  that  you  have  fallen  so  low  as  this  ?  Or  did  you 
come  here  because  you  had  such  a  twisted  mind  that 
honest  men  in  towns  would  not  respect  you  ?  It  is  a 
terrible  thing  to  be  calling  yourself  God's  priest,  and 
lending  yourself  a  tool  to  men  who  do  not  obey  God. 


150 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Have  you  not  enough  to  answer  for  in  the  day  of 
judgment  without  adding  this  crime  against  me  to 
the  list  of  your  sins  ? " 

A  sh'ght  uneasy  laugh  went  round  among  the 
other  men.  In  the  midst  of  the  discomfort  which 
was  growing  upon  them,  it  was  evidently  satisfaction 
to  hear  her  rail  at  the  priest. 

She  answered  the  laugh  as  if  it  had  been  a  taunt 
to  herself.  She  let  her  voice  rise  high  in  pathos, 
and  grow  strong  *tli  passionate  purpose.  "I  am 
sorry  for  you  all.  I  thought  that  you  were  brave, 
but  I  find  that  you  are  only  brave  enough  to  come  all 
together,  and  put  to  shame  one  weak  defenceless  girl. 
You  are  not,  according  to  your  own  account,  brave 
enough  to  face  her  enemies  for  her,  and  you  have 
not  courage  enough  to  deny  yourselves  the  pleasure 
of  trying  to  dupe  her  ignorance  and  triumph  over 
her  weakness.  Yet,  listen  now,  even  though  you 
have  shown  yourselves  to  be  entirely  cruel  and  cow- 
ardly, I  believe  that  you  have  done  it  because  you 
live  such  hard  lives  that  you  have  never  thought  how 
much  better  it  would  be  to  be  noble  and  good.  You 
have  all  got  it  in  you  to  be  kind  and  brave  if  you 
will ;  I  ask  you  for  the  sake  of  a  poor  girl,  who  has 
nothing  in  her  heart  towards  you  but  kindness,  to 
think  if  the  thing  you  are  trying  to  do  is  worth 
selling  your  souls  for.  But  whether  you  persist,  or 
whether  you  give  up  this  attempt,  I  for  my  part  will 


tlK 

a 

al)( 
it 

md 
Hal 
of 
talk 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


151 


3f 
to 

he 

LCll 

ion 

bos, 
am 
rave, 
le  all 
girl, 
brave 
have 
asure 
over 
L  you 
I  cow- 
,e  you 
t  how 
You 
if  you 
10  has 
ess,  to 
worth 
sist,  or 
rt  will 


do  only  what  I  know  to  be  right ;  I  am  weak,  but 
God  is  not  weak.  If  you  save  me  now,  you  will  put 
yourselves  on  God's  side,  and  He  will  save  you  in 
some  time  of  trouble  :  if  you  will  not  save  me,  I  will 
never,  never  consent  to  what  you  ask  of  me ;  and 
sometime  God  will  repay  to  you  far  greater  misery 
for  this  than  you  can  inflict  upon  me,  for  all  that  you 
can  do  to  me  is  take  my  life  here  and  let  me  go  more 
quickly  to  another  world,  which  is  better  than  this." 
She  looked  round  upon  them  all  with  flashing  eyes. 
''  I  will  never  yield  to  you.  God's  strength  is  with 
nie.     I  will  7iever  yield." 

Hamilton  gave  that  jerk  of  knee  and  foot  which 
more  than  once  before  he  had  given  in  angry  irrita- 
tion.    He  muttered  angrily  to  the  other  men.     "I'm 

not  such  a  d — d  ass  as "     (She  lost  some  of  his 

angry  words.)  "  Preaching  and  praying  idiot ! " 
With  that  he  gave  his  leg  another  impatient  jerk, 
and,  turning,  strode  toward  the  door.  Half  way 
there,  he  turned  back  and  spoke  to  her  sneeringly. 
"  You  needn't  distress  yourself,  my  dear,  any  more 
a1)out  us  to-night;  we'll  leave  you  for  a  bit  to  think 
it  over." 

The  priest  had  come  up  beside  him,  and,  like  a 
man  half  beside  himself  with  snarling  ill  temper, 
Hamilton  suddenly  began  a  low  violent  altercation, 
of  which  she  could  only  hear  a  few  expletives.  Thus 
talking,  they  went  out  together,  and  in  a  few  seconds, 


m 


152 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


with  tlie  awkwardness  common  to  minor  characters 
upon  the  stage,  the  other  men  went  out  also. 

The  door  had  not  shut  after  them,  she  had  no 
time  to  draw  one  breath  of  relief,  when  the  dwarf 
came  into  the  room  again  and  stood  looking  at  her. 

Night  had  wholly  curtained  the  windows,  but  the 
logs  still  blazed  brightly ;  only  the  further  part  of 
tlie  room  was  obscure,  pulsing  with  the  pale  gas- 
light from  without.  The  dwarf  stood  in  the  full 
firelight.  Above  his  broad  shoulders  his  thin  cyn- 
ical face  was  bent  forward  the  better  to  stare  at  her. 
The  girl  stood  yet  holding  herself  in  the  pose  of 
pathetic  defiance;  worked  up  with  the  intense  ex- 
citement of  her  acting,  the  mood  had  not  yet  relaxed 
its  dominion  over  her. 

The  dwarf  looked  searchingly  at  her  for  the 
space  of  about  a  minute ;  then  he  limped  out  again. 
This  time  he  shut  the  door  quietly  after  him. 

In  a  minute  or  two  she  heard  Hamilton,  while 
talking  noisily  to  his  fri  -^ds,  come,  and  with  loud 
strokes  of  a  hammer,  drive  a  nail  or  bolt  into  the 
fastening  of  the  door  upon  the  outside.  She  knew 
that  he  meant  to  make  her  prison  sure. 


f 


kj 

h 

pri 
ori( 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


the 


loud 

lo  the 

knew 


Mary  was  possessed  by  intense  excitement.  For 
some  time  she  hardly  knew  what  she  thought  or 
where  she  was. 

"Words  began  to  well  up  within  her  mind  ;  lier 
lips  formed  them,  but  she  made  no  sound. 

"  I  have  vanquished  them  ;  I  have  done  it  by  the 
mere  genius  of  my  acting.  I  have  been  more  than 
an  actor ;  I  have  been  the  author  of  the  piece  as  I 
spoke  it.  What  high-flown  langua^^ }  I  treated  them 
to !  It  was  poetry !  If  I  get  out  of  this  I  shall 
know  what  my  real  calling  in  life  is." 

Her  head  swam  then  with  vision  upon  vision  of 
her  pretty  little  self  swaying  the  hearts  of  thousands 
upon  the  stage.  This  brilliant  involuntary  day-dream 
was  fitfully  mixed  with  ejaculations  concerning  the 
present  circumstances  and  memories  of  the  last  hour, 
which  presented  themselves  one  by  c  ;  because  she 
had  been  too  overwrought  to  grasp  all  the  details  at 
once. 

All  this  time  she  stood  as  they  had  left  her,  lean- 

153 


154 


THE  MADOxNNA  OF  A   DAY. 


ing  back  against  the  log  wall,  her  breast  heaving  witli 
excitement,  alone  in  the  firelight ;  she  was  un- 
conscious of  fatigue,  unconscious  almost  of  any  bodily 
sensation. 

Gradually  her  pulses  beat  more  slowly;  gradually 
the  whirl  of  thought  in  her  brain  was  less  swift,  more 
rational.  In  the  transition  she  walked  about  the 
room,  at  one  moment  imagining  herself  a  tragedy 
queen,  at  another  wondering  when  would  come  her 
next  contest  with  her  enemies.  For  some  time  she 
felt  secure  in  her  recently  acquired  ])ower ;  she  could 
master  them  always,  because  she  had  once  obtained 
the  mastery.  Then,  at  last,  fear  found  place  in  her 
heart  once  more.  She  saw  herself  and  her  surround- 
ings in  the  light  of  truth,  without  the  ghmour  that 
the  wine  of  excitement  gives.  After  that  again  came 
depression,  when  her  plight  appeared  more  hopeless 
than  an  hour  before  it  had  seemed  triumphant. 

The  men  had  all  gone  within  another  hut ;  now 
and  then  she  heard  boisterous  laughter,  now  and  then 
loud  debate.  She  softly  tried  her  own  door ;  it  was, 
as  she  had  supposed,  barred  more  strongly  than  ever. 
She  tried  the  window  that  gave  upon  the  front ;  only 
four  small  panes  of  very  thick  glass  it  contained,  the 
cross  bars  strong  almost  as  the  heavy  casement ;  with 
out  an  axe  or  some  such  noisy  implement  she  could 
not  possibly  have  opened  it.  She  went  back  then, 
and  looked  down  into  the  foaming  waterfall,  upon 


to 
tin 

no 


and 
tran 


h 


0S( 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


155 


now 
tlien 
was, 
ever. 

only 
the 

with 
ould 
tlien, 
npon 


the  natural  jet  of  burning  gas,  and  upon  tlic  precipice 
of  jagged  ice  on  which  her  liut  abutted.  This  win- 
dow she  could  open  ;  it  was,  in  fact,  used  as  an  outlet 
for  ashes,  rubbish,  or  whatever  else  might  be  cast  out 
into  the  stream ;  the  water  swept  all  such  refuse  sheer 
down  under  the  bridge  of  ice  it  had  heaped  for  itself 
below.  The  girl  stood  leaning,  looking  at  the  w^ater, 
looking  at  the  spirit-like  form  of  the  gas  flame, 
tlirough  the  glass.  Her  resolution  was  taken ;  if  the 
men  went  to  sleep  without  disturbing  her  again,  she 
knew  what  she  would  do.  She  saw  a  new  way  by 
which  to  find  egress  from  this  window ;  perilous  it 
was,  and  yet  more  possible  than  descent  into  the  gully 
of  ice. 

The  hours  passed,  and  at  last  it  seemed  that  the 
men  did  indeed  sleep.  They  had  not  built  up  her 
fire  as  on  previous  nights ;  no  ashes  had  been  put  on 
to  quench  the  flames,  but  no  fuel  either.  The  logs 
that  were  there  still  glowed  brightly,  but  they  would 
not  last  till  morning.  She  was  glad  of  the  light  at 
the  time,  and  content  that  the  room  in  the  morning 
hours  should  be  cold. 

She  took  a  last  look  at  this  interior.  The  days 
and  nights  which  she  had  lived  there  had  seemed  so 
great  a  portion  of  her  lifetime  that  she  felt  that  some 
transition  from  youth  to  age  had  been  passed  therein. 

The  foundation  of  the  hut,  a  platform  of  stones 
loosely  mortared,  extended  from  six  to  ten  inches  be- 


156 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


yoiid  the  log  wall  upon  tlie  outside.  Climbing  out  of 
the  window,  she  stood  upon  this  ledge,  looking  down 
upon  the  luminous  precipice  of  ice  and  water  over 
which  she  hung.  It  was  easy  so  to  stand  while  she 
had  one  arm  within  the  window  ledge  by  which  to 
hold  herself  upright.  She  looked  at  the  ever-moving 
wall  of  water,  at  the  flickering  spectre  of  burning  gas, 
and,  turning  away  lest  her  eyes  should  grow  dizzy, 
she  started  upon  the  short  journey  that  might,  for  all 
she  knew,  bridge  for  her  the  space  between  life  and 
death. 

The  end  of  her  own  hut  formed  an  angle  w^itli  the 
long  side  of  the  men's  hut ;  there  was  no  space  be- 
tween them,  but  the  jutting  ledge  of  the  foundation 
continued  along  both  walls ;  her  soft  bedroom  slip- 
pers helped  her  feet  to  cling  to  the  stones.  She  had 
provided  herself  with  an  iron  fork  which  she  found 
in  the  hut ;  she  had  bent  its  prongs  upon  the  hearth- 
stone ;  it  formed  what  might  be  called  a  toy  grap- 
pling-hook,  and,  holding  by  it  to  the  w^ooden  logs,  it 
served  to  steady,  although  not  to  support,  her  trem- 
bling steps. 

In  this  way,  not  daring  once  to  look  down,  she 
crept  along  the  colter  wall  of  the  hut  in  which  the 
men  were  sleeping.  She  felt  herself  to  be  indeed  a 
timid  dependent  creature  while  she  made  her  slow 
progress,  hardly  breathing  with  terror  lest  the  shuf- 
fling sound  she  made  should  arouse  the  sleepers.    She 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


157 


had 

)und 

jartli- 


I  trcm- 


li  tlie 


could  not  hear  them  breathing  because  of  the  sound 
of-  the  waterfall 

It  was  only  surmise  that  when  she  got  to  this  next 
corner  the  ledge  on  which  she  was  walking  would 
continue  until  she  could  stand  on  level  ground.  Her 
head  swam  with  hope  and  fear  before  she  could  see 
round  the  corner.  Then  she  saw  that  it  was  even 
better  than  she  had  believed ;  the  edge  of  the  snowy 
plain  met  her  here,  level  and  firm.  With  noiseless 
foot  she  tripped  to  the  front  of  the  huts,  and  for  a 
moment  looked  at  them  in  the  grey  night.  She  saw 
the  fire  flickering  behind  the  small  window  which  for 
the  last  three  days  she  had  called  her  own.  She  scru- 
tinized the  dark  walls  of  the  other  huts  with  keenest 
apprehension  ;  in  one  the  men,  in  the  other  the  horses, 
were  asleep.  She  thanked  fate  that  no  dog  was  kept 
in  the  place,  and  having  paid  this  duty  of  momentary 
inspection  and  thought,  she  turned  and  sped  along  the 
silent  road. 

After  her  awful  journey  between  wall  and  preci- 
pice, the  road  of  soft  snow  seemed  easy  walking; 
after  her  former  fear,  her  hope  now  rose  again  to  an 
exhilarating  pitch ;  after  drinking  deep  of  the  stimu- 
lant of  danger,  she  had  now  no  sense  at  all  of  the 
bodily  weakness  and  pain  that  still,  as  a  matter  of 
cruel  fact,  dogged  her  footsteps. 

When  she  came  to  the  edge  of  the  plateau,  the 

road  became  precipitous  and  winding,  huge  rocks  and 
11 


158 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


mfr 


trees  forcing  it  to  curve  this  way  and  that,  now  shut- 
ting her  in,  now  giving  vast  sweep  of  sight  into  the 
blackness  of  the  valley  of  the  river,  or  sometimes  into 
the  shadowy  snow-plains  of  the  notch,  with  the  sound 
and  dim  outline  of  the  torrent  at  her  feet.  At  every 
turn  she  looked  up  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  flam- 
ing gas  spectre.  Afar  and  dim  in  the  distance,  it  had 
more  than  ever  an  unearthly  look. 

Before  she  left  her  fire-lit  hut,  she  had  heard  a 
distant  moaning  sound  of  wind  in  the  valley.  The 
sound  had  gradually  grown  stronger ;  all  the  air  was 
in  motion.  After  the  i-^tense  calm  of  the  previous 
days,  the  wind  in  itself  carried  the  feeling  of  relaxed 
tension  and  new  excitement.  Now,  as  she  sped 
downward,  alone  among  the  night-dimmed  moun- 
tains, she  felt  the  gale  swell  and  increase.  The  firs 
rocked  and  tossed  wild  arms  above  her ;  the  forest  in 
the  valley  seemed  to  shout  like  the  assembled  voice  of 
a  great  host  in  the  distance.  ^*Vhat  was  strangest  was 
that  the  wind,  in  the  midst  of  this  wintry  scene,  was 
rot  cold — it  actually  seemed  warm.  She  wrapped 
her  veil  more  and  more  tightly  around  her,  as  a  boat- 
man furls  his  sail,  to  escape  the  pressure  of  the  wind, 
not  for  warmth. 

She  did  not  now  fear  pursuit,  but  she  had  an  object 
in  using  all  possible  haste  to  accomplish  her  journey 
quickly.  It  was  her  great  hope  that  she  might  suc- 
ceed in  stopping  the  train.     It  had  been  so  long  be- 


THE   MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


159 


id 

17 
m- 

lad 

d  a 

The 

was 

ious 

axed 

sped 

aoun- 
firs 

est  in 

ice  oi 
it  was 
,  was 
lapped 
boat- 
wind, 

object 

)urney 

Ibt  suc- 

)ng  he- 


fore  the  men  slept  that  she  had  already  heard  the 
rush  of  the  first  train  of  the  night — that  bound  for 
the  western  shore.  Her  hope  lay  now  in  making  a 
danger  signal  large  enough  to  be  seen  by  the  driver 
of  the  train  from  which  she  had  fallen  four  nights 
before.  She  wanted  to  reach  the  railway  line  in  time 
to  choose  the  most  favourable  place  for  her  attempt. 

She  felt  herself  to  be  running  zigzag  on  the  road, 
almost  as  a  ball  runs  when  it  bounds  from  the  obsta- 
cles that  bar  its  straighter  progress.  The  snow,  not 
much  trodden,  was  still  deep  enough  to  hold  her  feet 
firmly  from  sliding ;  but  it  was  not  until  she  had  de- 
scended far  that  she  noticed  how  much  shallower  and 
firmer  the  white  carpet  now  w^as  than  when  last  she 
had  touched  it. 

When  she  came  to  the  level  of  the  notch  she 
glanced  about  her  fearfully.  To  her  right  she  heard 
the  stream  beating  upon  the  wooden  troughs  of  the 
digging.  She  looked  over  the  dim  reaches  of  the 
level,  illimitable  in  the  night :  no  outline  broke  the 
whiteness  of  the  ground  and  the  blackness  of  the  air. 
Only  one  road  lay  trodden  before  her — it  was  that  by 
which  Hamilton  had  brought  her  from  the  railway  ; 
but  when  she  essayed  to  follow  it  she  found  to  her 
dismay,  that  it  had  been  crossed  and  recrossed  by 
trampling  feet,  perhaps  of  the  miners,  perhaps  of  cat- 
tle— she  could  not  tell.  She  was  fain  to  remember 
the  general  direction  in  which  she  must  go  and  run 


160 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY, 


on.     The  snow  was  now  so  shallow  that  she  felt  the 
ground  an  inch  or  two  below  its  surface. 

In  this  way  she  came  upon  the  railway  near  to 
the  spur  of  the  hill  from  which  she  had  descended. 

The  air  came  in  great  surging  waves,  for  long 
minutes  almost  overwhelming  her  with  its  force  and 
swiftness,  as  a  long  wave  of  the  sea  overwhelms  a 
bather.  Then  there  would  be  a  lull,  a  moment  of 
peace  in  which  she  could  walk  steadily,  and  a  hush 
in  the  nearer  part  of  the  forest,  while  she  could 
hear  the  roar  of  the  next  surge  beginning  to  the 
westward. 

She  did  not  dare  to  stand  upon  the  line  ;  she  felt 
that  if  she  did,  the  wind,  acquiring  a  little  more  force, 
might  at  any  moment  hurl  her  down  the  steep  on  the 
other  side.  She  had  no  means  of  knowing  how  long 
it  would  be  before  the  train  came.  She  still  walked 
with  speed,  seeking  to  find  some  sheltering  rock,  in 
whose  lee  she  might  wait  and  arrange  the  torch  which 
she  hoped  to  kindle. 

So  far  the  excitement  of  escape  and  the  stimulant 
of  the  wind  had  kept  up  her  hopes ;  now  she  began 
to  see  how  unfavourable  this  strong  wind  would  be 
for  her  torch.  The  train  and  the  gale  were  travelling 
in  the  same  direction  ;  she  must  hold  the  torch  in  the 
face  of  the  wind. 

Shelter  was  not  easily  obtained ;  she  was  afraid 
to  leave  the  railway  more  than  a  few  paces,  lest  the 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


161 


be 

to 

mg 
ind 
.s  a 
;  of 
msli 
ould 
tlie 

J  felt 
[orce, 
n  the 

long 
alked 

[ck,  in 
liicli 

mlant 
I  began 
liild  be 
relling 
m  the 

afraid 
lest  tlie 


train  should  come.  At  length,  where  the  hill  rose 
immediately  above  the  line,  she  found  a  portion  of 
earth  that  sheltered  her  somewhat.  Crouching  be- 
hind it  she  unfastened  from  the  folds  of  her  silken 
shawl  certain  treasures  wrapped  therein ;  these  were, 
a  stick  of  wood,  a  cotton  garment,  an  old  newspaper, 
and  a  bit  of  string.  She  proceeded  to  tie  the  paper 
and  the  calico  to  the  upper  part  of  the  stick.  She 
took  out  now,  for  the  first  time  with  a  feeling  of 
security,  the  silver  cigarette  case.  There  was  no  one 
here  to  challenge  her  for  its  possession.  She  took  it 
out  to  light  one  of  the  vestas  which  it  held  in  a  sepa- 
rate compartment ;  but  it  struck  her  with  a  grotesque 
sense  of  humour  that  she  might  now  comfort  herself 
by  smoking,  without  any  fear  of  unpleasant  familiari- 
ties following  the  act.  The  mountains,  the  forest,  the 
wind,  the  river,  would  not  regard  her. 

She  crouched  for  some  minutes,  puffing  at  the 
cigarette  in  complete  solitude,  thinking  to  herself  how 
odd  a  contrast  there  was  between  her  enjoyment  of 
this  little  roll  of  perfumed  tobacco  and  the  part  which 
she  had  played  in  the  scene  of  the  evening.  It  was 
only  because  the  men  of  these  parts  were  some  decades 
behind  the  times  in  their  notions  of  propriety  that  the 
contrast  between  a  woman  smoking  and  a  pious  lady 
would  have  been  so  great  in  their  eyes  !  And  yet — 
and  yet — at  the  same  moment  with  these  thoughts,  she 
felt  a  certain  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  the  great 


1C2 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


white  mountain  peak  was,  while  she  smoked,  veiled 
by  darkness. 

She  had  perfected  her  torch  as  far  as  she  was  able. 
The  distant  ru^  of  a  gust  of  wind  constantly,  in  its 
far  western  beginning,  deceived  her  into  thinking  that 
the  train  was  coming.  In  the  lull  again,  she  discovered 
the  deception.  The  hour  w^as  long;  she  marvelled 
that  she  was  not  more  cold.  The  air  seemed  almost 
hot  about  her. 

At  last,  deceived  so  often  by  the  mighty  wind,  the 
awful  rush  of  the  train  was  loud  and  comparatively 
near  before  she  knew  it.  She  had,  all  through  the 
hour  of  waiting,  realized  most  keenly  that  when  this 
moment  came  all  her  hope  would  depend  upon  the 
speedy  and  skilful  lighting  of  the  torch.  It  would 
have  been  strange  if  she  had  not  fumbled  with  the 
matches  before  one  was  alight ;  her  fingers  were  numb, 
not  with  cold,  but  with  excitement.  Yet  she  was  not 
a  woman  to  be  helpless  in  such  a  crisis.  She  lit  the 
paper  and  the  calico ;  she  sheltered  them  with  her 
shawl  until  they  blazed.  It  seemed  now,  from  the 
noise,  that  she  must  be  almost  too  late  with  her  signal. 
She  started  frantically  out  from  the  hillside  ;  the  great 
yellow  eye  of  the  engine  had  not  as  yet  come  round 
the  first  curve  to  the  west. 

There  was  a  distance  of  about  twenty  feet  between 
the  railway  line  and  the  hill ;  in  this  she  stood,  expect- 
ing at  every  moment  to  see  the  train.     A  great  surge 


TOE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


1G3 


^reat 
lound 


Iween 
mect- 


of  the  wind  came  upon  lier ;  her  torch,  drenched  in  it 
as  in  water,  died  out. 

She  dashed  again  behind  the  rock ;  the  ragged 
edges  of  paper  and  calico  were  still  red  where  they 
were  charred.  She  struck  match  after  match,  casting 
them  burning  into  the  rent  of  the  torch.  The  thing 
was  aflame.  She  stood  once  more,  a  little  frantic 
figure,  torch  in  hand,  beside  the  track,  in  the  vast 
solitude  of  night.  The  fiery  eye  of  the  great  monster 
was  coming  nearer,  so  was  the  great  rush  of  the  wind. 
It  was  but  a  moment  that  the  torch  blazed,  then  it 
was  again  extinguished. 

She  still  w^aved  it — it  was  all  that  she  could  do.  She 
cast  her  arms  about,  and  screamed  with  all  her  might. 
It  seemed  that  the  fiery  eye  was  coming  straight  upon 
her.  Then  the  black  train  was  rattling  past  with  a 
noise  that  was  terrible,  as  if  the  mountains  themselves 
were  falling.  She  believed  that  she  saw  a  man  upon 
the  engine  swing  head  and  shoulders  out  sideways  and 
look  back  at  her  with  curiosity,  if  not  with  indecision. 
Perhaps  he  could  hardly  see  her  in  the  night ;  perhaps 
he  was  accustomed  to  strange,  half-savage  figures  ap- 
pearing in  unlooked-for  places.  She  av  the  dim 
lights  of  the  passenger-cars  pass  bar,  +"'^en  she  saw  the 
red  lights  at  the  rear.  The  v  hole  great  noise  and 
commotion  was  gone  ;  there  was  nothing  left  but  the 
wind  and  the  surrounding  wilds. 

She  went  back  to  the  shelter  where  she  had  before 


I' 


;l(;4  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

been  sitting  smoking.  The  very  ground  seemed  much 
colder,  and  the  rock  more  inhospitable.  She  had  iiot 
Hope  now  for  a  companion ;  Disappointment  sat  with 
her,  and,  for  a  little  while,  Despair.  She  dropped  her 
face  upon  her  small  white  hands.  It  seemed  to  her 
that  she  was  too  small  and  soft  a  thing  for  Fate  to 
mock  and  use  so  cruelly.  She  determined  at  first  that 
she  would  hide  herself,  and  die  alone  among  the  moun- 
tains. She  had  an  idea  that  she  would  take  revenge 
upon  Something  by  so  doing,  the  Something  that  had 
made  such  cruel  sport  of  her. 


CIIAPTEE  XYIIL 


After  a  while,  Mary  decided  that  the  only 
course  which  offered  any  hope  for  her  was  to  re- 
trace her  steps  to  the  digging,  and  throw  herself 
upon  the  mercy  of  the  superstitious  men  there.  She 
lacked  physical  strength  to  walk  to  the  distant  rail- 
way station,  and  she  was  filled  with  terror  at  the 
thought  of  being  found  alone  by  Hamilton's  party, 
or  by  the  Chinamen.  She  had  no  reason  to  believe 
that  the  miners  were  good  men ;  she  had  heard  them 
confess  with  their  own  lips  that  they  had  been  to- 
gether in  some  crime.  Yet  she  was  fain  to  believe 
that  they  would  not  injure  her.  She  walked  very 
wearily,  nothing  but  absolute  necessity  gave  her 
strength ;  she  was  hardly  the  same  creature  that, 
full  of  excitement,  had  come  swiftly  down  the  hill 
in  the  earlier  part  of  the  night.  It  was  quite  two 
miles  she  had  to  walk ;  happily  the  contour  of  the 
land  was  such  that  she  could  not  easily  mistake 
her  way. 

She  had  not  gone  far  before  she  realized  that  the 

165 


106 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


111: 


Bnow  was  passing  away  before  the  wind  as  quickly 
as  frost  upon  the  window  pane  can  be  melted  by 
the  breatii.  Already  there  were  large  tracts  over 
which  she  walked  where  the  grass  was  bare ;  she 
knew  now  why,  an  hour  or  two  before,  the  snow 
had  seemed  so  shallow  and  compact.  Thc^Ve  was  not 
much  moisture  left  upon  the  ground,  the  great  warm 
wind  seemed  to  dry  it  as  it  melted. 

She  began  to  understand  that  it  might  have  been 
true,  what  the  men  told  her,  that  there  was  no  way 
of  getting  to  the  station  while  deep  snow  was  on 
the  ground,  because,  if  it  was  so  transient,  it  was 
natural  that  no  preparations  should  be  made  for 
travelling  in  it. 

During  the  long  weary  walk  she  heard  the  moun- 
tain stream  running.  It  seemed  to  be  divided  into 
small  streams,  that  were  strewn  over  the  land. 
She  saw  sometimes  the  outline  of  what  seemed  a 
wooden  trough  or  spout.  She  knew  enough  to  sup- 
pose that  the  water  was  divided  thus  for  the  purposes 
of  gold- washing. 

This  time  the  huts  belonging  to  the  miners  were 
completely  dark ;  she  was  close  to  the  long  low  build- 
ings before  she  saw  them. 

She  turned  away  from  that  in  which  the  men 
slept ;  if  she  could  only  find  a  corner  in  which  to 
rest  until  morning,  it  would  be  better.  Two  sheds 
there  were  in  which  animals  were  kept;  she  heard 


m 

A.       I 

s] 

arl 

thi 
thi 
ou 


TlIK  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


107 


oses 


Inien 
to 
Iheds 
eard 


the  sound  of  their  breath  and  their  restlessness ;  they 
were  no  doubt  the  ponies  and  draught  oxen.  The 
heavy  door  of  the  first  shed  was  locked,  so  also 
was  the  largest  door  in  the  second  building,  but  a 
smaller  door  at  one  end  she  found  to  be  only  bolted 
in  such  a  manner  that,  after  her  small  white  fingers 
had  worked  long  at  it,  she  was  able  to  undo  the 
fastening  and  pull  it  open. 

She  crept  into  the  dark  shadow  of  the  interior. 
Here,  indeed,  it  was  night,  no  star,  no  reflecting 
snow.  There  were  animals  in  the  place ;  she  heard 
them  moving  as  if  to  turn  and  look  at  her;  she 
smelt  their  warm  breath.  While  the  door  remained 
open,  she  saw  a  darker  shadow  that  might  be  a  row 
of  stalls  about  three  fee  twithin  ;  when  she  had  closed 
it  quickly,  she  put  out  her  hand  as  far  as  she  could 
reach,  and  touched  the  face  of  some  creature.  She 
could  not  understand  why  it  was  tied  with  its  face  to 
the  door.  She  walked  a  few  paces  to  the  right, 
feeling  her  way.  Iler  steps  were  blocked  now  by  a 
pile  of  hay  or  straw.  By  feeling  with  her  hands, 
she  perceived  that  another  stall  and  the  head  of 
another  beast  were  opposite  this.  She  was  afraid  to 
examine  the  animals  more  nearly ;  she  was  content  to 
find  that  there  seemed  to  be  some  bar  which  kept 
them  in  their  present  place.  She  sank  down  upon 
the  hay,  shivering  with  relief  at  the  warmth  given 
out  by  the  animals  and  the  comfort  of  the  bed. 


ill.. 


If ; 

if: 


108 


TIIP]  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


It  was  in  tlio  dim  hour  of  dawn  that  she  awoke. 
A  man  was  entering  the  door ;  the  heads  of  two 
great  oxen  were  stretehed  out  from  the  stalls  towards 
him.  Her  first  glance  at  them  suggested  that  they 
were  expecting  food.  The  man  pushed  a  large 
bucket  within  the  narrow  opening  of  the  door,  then 
he  stepped  in  himself.  It  was  such  a  very  narrow 
space,  such  a  compressed  stable,  that  for  the  moment 
lie  was  quite  absorbed  in  adjusting  himself  and  his 
load  to  the  required  limit. 

The  girl  had  risen  silently ;  she  stood  up,  leaning 
for  support  against  the  hay  and  against  the  wooden 
wall.  It  was  thus,  across  the  heads  of  the  oxen,  in 
the  grey  light  of  dawn,  that  the  man  caught  sight 
of  her. 

lie  stopped  in  the  attitude  in  which  he  stood,  tilt- 
ing the  large  bucket  to  roll  it  upon  the  floor ;  he  re- 
mained for  the  space  of  some  seconds,  staring  with 
wide  stupid  eyes. 

"I  am  only  a  girl,"  she  began.  "I  need  your 
help." 

The  man  let  his  burden  settle  back  upon  the 
floor ;  he  backed  precipitately  out  of  the  stable,  mak- 
ing a  curious  gasping  sound.  When  he  got  out  it 
seemed  that  he  saw  some  of  his  companions,  for  he 
uttered  a  short  shout  that  by  its  intonation  clearly 
meant  that  he  was  in  need  of  help.  She  heard  steps 
coming  in  several  directions. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


1(59 


m 


rour 

the 

lak- 

lut  it 

)r  be 

[early 

steps 


She  could  not  get  past  to  tlie  door ;  the  cattle  had 
stretched  their  heads  quite  out  of  the  stalls,  and  were 
smelling  at  the  tub  which,  heavy  and  full  of  some 
li(piid  food,  blocked  the  rest  of  the  passage. 

She  heard  the  men  who  had  come  up,  speaking; 
they  seemed  to  be  asking,  more  in  derision  than  in 
sympathy,  what  was  the  matter.  Then  the  first  man 
came  in  again,  w^ith  three  others  behind  him.  The 
first  man  was  middle-aged,  bearded  and  shaggy ;  an- 
other had  a  beard,  but  w^as  younger ;  the  other  two 
were  mere  boys.  The  light  from  the  door  w^as  full 
upon  them ;  they  were  roughly  dressed ;  their  faces, 
too,  were  not  a  little  wild  and  rough. 

She  was  too  well  trained  in  art  not  to  feel  the 
influence  of  the  picture.  It  was  hard  for  her  to 
find  any  words  that  seemed  to  chime  in  with  this 
influence. 

"I  need  your  help,"  she  said.  *'I  need  to  be 
taken  to  the  next  town.  I  must  get  to  the  train.  I 
am  only  a  poor  girl,  hungry  and  tired  and  cold.  I 
fell  off  the  train,  and  when  I  came  here  tl  e  first  night 
my  throat  was  so  bad  I  could  not  speak  ;  and  then  the 
man  who  was  here  with  you — his  name  is  Hamilton 
— took  me  away  to  a  house  up  the  hill."  She  pointed 
in  the  direction  from  w^hich  she  had  come. 

The  men,  who  it  seemed  had  hardly  taken  in  the 
sense  of  her  words  at  first,  at  the  mention  of  Hamil- 
ton's name  became  excited.     They  spoke  to  one  an- 


il:,; 


170 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


,1  fi 


ill 


other  rapidly,  but  so  low  that  she  could  not  hear 
them. 

"  No  one  hurt  me  when  I  was  up  there,"  she  said ; 
"  but  I  w^as  afraid  of  them.  I  ran  away  in  the  night 
because  I  was  afraid,  and  now  I  have  come  }iere  to 
ask  you  to  take  care  of  me  and  take  me  to  the  sta- 
tion." 

The  men  looked  at  each  other;  they  looked  at 
her.  A  certain  incredulity  as  to  the  truth  of  her  tale 
mingled  with  much  bashf  ulness  in  her  presence.  The 
youngest  suddenly  dived  out  of  the  door.  Then  they 
all  went  out,  and  stood  together  just  outside.  She 
was  aware  that  they  did  not  go  away ;  they  seemed  to 
be  standing  together  like  animals  taking  counsel  in 
silence. 

She  felt  entirely  encouraged  by  their  faces ;  they 
were  not  drunk  now,  as  they  had  been  on  the  first 
night ;  there  was  certainly  none  of  that  fere  'hj  to- 
wards jer  which  Hamilton  had  described.  She  was 
inclined  to  think  that  she  was  safe  if  she  could  get 
these  men  to  do  what  she  required  before  Hamilton 
returned. 

She  felt  sure  that  there  was  need  of  haste  ;  Hamil- 
ton would  certainly  not  be  long  in  seeking  her.  She 
called  to  Jie  men  in  pleading  voice  to  let  her  come 
out. 

Tnoy  came  in,  slapping  the  heads  of  the  oxen  so 
3re  withdrawn,  and 


iiey 


'mng 


THE  MADONNA   OF  A  DAY. 


171 


lamU- 

Slie 

len  so 
tub. 


She  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  they  stood  just  below, 
looking  at  her. 

*'  Give  me  food,"  she  said,  "  and  then  take  me  to 
the  station  where  I  can  wait  for  the  train — surely 
that  is  not  asking  much." 

Another  man,  crossing  the  enclosure  and  suddenly 
seeing  her  at  the  door,  stood  motionless  a  moment, 
and  then  ran  to  the  dwelling-house.  In  a  minute 
several  more  men  streamed  across  the  space  between 
the  huts;  they  all  stood  lookirg  at  her.  Tlie  tall 
Yankee,  whom  she  had  noticed  upon  her  previous 
visit,  began  to  manifest  signs  of  delight  whicn  were 
evidently  contagious. 

Before  the  exultation  had  spread  there  was  also 
some  talking. 

"  Where's  the  lady  been  ? " 

"  IN^ever  went  away  of  herself !  Old  Harry  took 
lier  up  to  Wilson's." 

Before  the  full  meaning  of  question  and  answer 
had  reached  their  minds,  the  Yankee's  jubilant  senti- 
ment had  caught  most  of  them.  The  Yankee  threw 
up  his  cap,  and  gave  a  yell  indicative  of  pleasure. 
Most  of  them  waved  t!ieir  caps  in  the  air,  and  made 
gesticulation,  suggesting  that  good  fortune  had  come 
to  the  camp. 

It  was  not  just  what  siie  wanted  ;  she  had  no 
desire  that  they  should  be  so  pleased  w^ith  her  presence 
that  they  would  not  be  willing  to  get  her  away  quickly. 


:'«■ 


172 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


'^i.'.] 


m 


In  this  demonstration  the  men  who  had  first 
found  her  took  no  part;  in  a  minute  or  two  she 
found  out  that  this  was  because  they  had  understood 
tlie  facts  concerning  Hamilton.  They  began  to  talk 
to  the  others  in  a  low  tone ;  they  spoke  of  Hamilton 
as  "  Old  Harry ; "  they  seemed  to  attribute  to  him 
almost,  if  not  all,  the  power  that  the  spirit  who 
goes  by  that  name  is  supposed  to  have. 

"Won't  you  give  me  something  to  eat?"  she 
asked. 

She  looked  piteous  enough.  Her  face  was  very 
white;  it  had  lost  its  roundness.  Her  eyes  were 
large  and  supernaturally  bright.  She  felt  so  weary 
and  ill  that  she  was  almost  ready  to  comply  with 
any  suggestion  they  made  to  her,  and  give  up  the 
battle  for  liberty  as  lost.  Nothing  but  a  resolute 
little  will,  upholding  itself  behind  all  the  region  of 
imaginations  and  desires  which  at  this  hour  lay 
wilted  like  flowers  and  seemingly  dead,  kept  her  firm 
to  the  one  purpose  of  reaching  the  station  that  day. 

At  ?:er  request  for  food  the  men  were  brought 
suddenly  back  to  what  notions  they  had  of  corrtesy. 
One  of  them,  who  apparently  officiated  as  cook,  ran 
at  once  to  the  dwelling-hut.  The  Yankee  stepped 
forward,  hat  in  hand,  and  with  the  caricature  of 
elegance,  begged  that  she  would  accompany  him. 
The  breakfast,  he  said,  ^'  if  not  tasty,"  would  be 
*'  square." 


TriE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


173 


Irtesy. 
k,  ran 
ipped 
ire  of 

lid  be 


She  hardly  noticed  what  he  did  or  said ;  she 
walked  to  the  other  hut,  the  men  following.  All  the 
sweep  of  the  plain  in  the  notch  had  lost  its  whiteness ; 
the  earth  and  rock  of  the  digging  and  the  water- 
spouts were  bare ;  the  near  hillsides  were  green 
again  ;  the  ground  that  she  trod  upon  was  brown  and 
soft;  the  air,  comparatively  calm,  was  very  mild. 
The  feeling  of  relaxed  muscles  and  exhausted  nerve 
prevented  her  from  taking  any  pleasure  in  the 
change ;  even  the  exciting  little  drama  of  which  she 
was  the  principal  figure,  lost  interest. 

The  Yankee,  long  of  limb  and  energetic,  had 
darted  into  the  hut  first,  and  now  it  seemed  to  occur 
to  him  that  it  was  not  in  a  fit  state  for  her  recep- 
tion, lie  gave  vent  to  his  views  on  this  point  vigor- 
ously, and  the  opinion  of  the  company  on  the  whole 
coincided  with  his.  She  was  left  standing  outside, 
two  or  three  of  them  guarding  her,  while  the  others 
inside  made  a  great  commotion.  Their  excitement 
showed  in  certain  wrestlings  which  took  place,  short 
laughs,  and  a  snatch  or  two  of  song.  With  ears  sen- 
sitive to  catch  every  indication  of  their  spirit  towards 
lier^  she  noticed  that  when  more  than  one  air  had 
been  started  for  a  bar  or  two,  that  which  prevailed 
was  a  swinging  mission  hymn ;  not  that  the  words 
T\'ere  articidate,  or  that  any  sense  of  them  could  be 
said  to  pervade  the  occasion,  but  the  music  made  its 
">\vn  atmosphere. 

1<W 


174: 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


At  length  they  brought  her  in.  It  seemed  that 
the  beds  liad  been  kicked  bodily  to  one  end  of  the 
place,  in  a  heap.  They  gave  her  a  chair  near  the 
stove ;  they  set  a  cnp  of  coffee,  and  bread  and  beef 
before  her,  on  a  rude  stand.  There  was  a  bio-  table 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room  where  the  meal  for  the 
men  was  set  out ;  a  few  of  the  more  phlegmatic  ate 
theirs  while  she  was  eating  hers.  The  tall  Yankee 
sat  and  grinned  at  her  with  benevolent  delight.  One 
or  two  of  the  others  also  stood  a  good  way  off,  and 
surreptitiously  feasted  their  eyes. 

Thought  came  back  to  her  with  the  strength  of 
the  food.  Both  Hamilton  and  the  dwarf  had  agreed 
in  telling  her  that  this  camp  was  a  poor  one,  contain- 
ing a  set  of  low  and  vicious  men.  Eemembering  the 
curious  confession  that  some  of  these  men  had  made  to 
her,  she  thought  that  this  statement  was  probably  true. 
The  fact  that  they  evidently  stood  in  dread  of  Hamil- 
ton spoke,  as  it  seemed,  for  their  own  lawlessness  and 
low  status.  They  would  hardly  regard  him  thus  if 
they  were  not  under  some  disreputable  obligation  to 
him. 

Her  own  troubles  were  giving  her  a  new  heart  of 
kindliness.  With  the  power  that  a  stimulated  imagina- 
tion lent  her  of  standing  apart  and  looking  at  her  own 
situation,  she  saw  the  pathos  in  the  lives  of  these  men ; 
the  pleasure  they  took  in  merely  looking  at  her  was 
patlietic.     There  was  no  lack  of  respect  in  the  way 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


175 


le 

le 

ei 

Ae 

:lic 

ate 

kee 

One 

and 

:li  of 
yreed 
ntain- 
(T  tlie 
adeto 
true. 

ianul- 

ss  and 

lius  if 

ion  to 

leart  of 
lagi^^''^" 

lier  own 
iQ  men ; 
her  Wt^s 
tlie  way 


that  they  looked  at  her.  After  her  late  experience, 
she  felt  that  she  loved  them  all  for  this  respect.  She 
would  gladly  have  stayed  with  them  awhile,  and  done 
something  to  make  their  lives  brighter,  if  it  had  been 
possible.  A  dim  vision  of  a  higher  plane  of  life,  in 
which  it  might  have  been  possible  for  her  to  do  it, 
came  to  her.  That,  after  all,  would  be  something 
worth  doing,  much  more  w^orth  doing  than  going 
home  where,  as  far  as  she  knew,  no  one  loved  her 
very  much,  and  working  out  for  herself  some  individ- 
ual ambition,  and  having  her  gowns  and  good  man- 
ners praised  in  the  newspapers.  It  was  partly  because 
physical  life  w^as  at  such  a  low  ebb  within  her  that  she 
felt  the  craving  to  do  some  small  thing  that  was  eter- 
nal while  she  yet  lived.  The  eternal  thing  that  she 
thought  of  was,  of  course,  quite  impossible ;  but,  in 
some  way  that  she  could  not  explain,  she  knew  that 
at  the  root  of  things  the  reason  of  this  impossibility 
was  that  she  was  only  a  mock  saint,  not  a  real  one. 

When  she  had  eaten  and  drunk,  she  felt  that  it 
would  be  courteous  to  go  out  again  and  let  the  men 
eat  their  meal  without  constraint.  She  told  them  this ; 
she  said  that  siie  would  go  back  to  the  cattle-shed  and 
sit  upon  the  hay.  The  Yankee  escorted  her.  The 
oxen,  that  had  now  been  fed,  looked  at  her  with  big 
gentle  eyer  as  they  chewed  the  cud.  The  air  was  so 
niild  that,  instead  of  entering,  she  sank  upon  the  door- 
step.    The  Yankee  went  back  to  his  breakfast. 


)?■■ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


El!    li 


While  Mary  sat  upon  the  doorstep  of  the  shed, 
two  dogs  came  racing  from  the  back  of  it.  One  was 
a  ragged  terrier  of  years  and  experience,  the  other  a 
huge  creature  of  mastiff  and  mongrel  descent,  perhaps 
some  six  months  old,  whose  strength  so  far  had  gone 
to  bones  rather  than  brains.  In  front  of  them,  madly 
scampering  from  them  for  its  life,  was  a  kitten.  The 
kitten,  every  hair  on  end,  darted  into  a  hole  scooped 
out  where  the  floor  of  the  shed  met  the  ground.  The 
terrier,  making  himself  very  flat,  scuttled  through 
after  her.  The  huge  pup,  evidently  unconscious  that 
he  was  tliree  times  too  big  to  follow,  charged  at  the 
hole  madly  with  his  head,  and,  after  trying  in  vain  for 
a  full  minute  to  make  himself  small  enough,  sat  up 
and  wept  with  disappointment.  Inside,  the  terrier 
could  be  heard  making  short  runs  in  the  hole  and 
barking  with  the  voice  of  an  experienced  huntsman, 
proclaiming  that  he  knew  where  the  quarry  had  gone, 
and  that  he  would  soon  reach  it.  In  the  meantime,  in 
a  little  hole  between  the  roof  and  the  top  of  the  wall, 

176 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


177 


hcd, 
was 
ler  a 
:baps 
2one 
uadly 
The 
ooped 
Tlie 

rough 
s  that 

at  the 

am  f  0^ 
sat  up 
terrier 
le  and 
tsman, 
a  gone, 
time,  it^ 
,lie  wah, 


the  kitten  appeared.  There  she  sat,  a  little  fluffy  ball 
of  indignation,  looking  at  the  weeping  pup,  and  listen- 
ing to  the  barking  terrier. 

Mary  w^as  completely  diverted ;  she  had  a  vague 
idea  that  only  st-range  unknown  animals  lived  in  these 
wilds.  There  was  something  simple  and  homely 
about  the  dogs  and  the  cat  which,  like  the  respectful- 
ness of  the  men,  comforted  her  greatly.  Her  mind 
had  borne  a  strain  so  long  that,  now  the  tension  had 
relaxed,  she  felt  like  one  who,  after  crossing  the  des- 
ert, drinks  from  a  spring  of  cool  water. 

In  a  minute  or  two  the  men  began  to  straggle  out 
from  the  other  hut  and  come  over  towards  her. 
They  had  dispatched  their  food  quickly;  the  noise 
that  the  dogs  were  making  was  an  excuse  for  them 
to  interfere. 

Tears  were  running  down  the  cheeks  of  the  great 
baby-dog ;  he  was  whining  dismally.  It  was  evident 
that,  in  his  estimation,  not  his  own  size,  but  some 
mysterious  enemy,  had  foiled  him  in  the  attempt  to 
follow  the  terrier.  Mary  laughed — she  could  not 
help  it.  She  told  the  first  men  who  came  up  what 
had  happened  ;  she  would  not  let  them  drive  away 
the  dogs. 

They  began  to  watch  the  game  too.  The  young 
dog  did  not  see  the  kitten  above  him  ;  every  now 
and  then  he  butted  at  the  hole  and  scrambled  on  the 
ground  with  his  big  body,  and  tried  to  get  through. 


li, 


178 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


m 


8'  -I 


Nearly  all  the  men  came  and  stood  ronnd  to  see  the 
fun.  They  seemed  to  be  vastly  entertained  at  the 
interest  Mary  took  in  it ;  that,  no  doubt,  was  the 
entrancing  element  in  the  scene  to  them.  She  made 
small  excited  remarks  about  the  absurdity  of  the  pup, 
the  excitement  of  the  terrier,  and  the  security  of  the 
kitten.  At  length,  when  her  interest  in  the  safety 
of  the  kitten  became  apparent,  one  of  the  men 
climbed,  caught  it,  and  gave  it  to  her.  Then  they 
whistled  for  the  terrier,  and  held  the  dogs  from 
springing,  while  the  small  atom  of  fury  in  kitten's 
fur  arched  itself  and  spat  at  them  valiantly.  Such 
great  valour  in  so  small  a  thing  amused  them  all 
when  their  attention  was  concentrated  upon  it  by  the 
pretty  woman  who  held  it.  When  she  laughed,  they 
all  shouted  with  laughter. 

This  morning,  after  the  warm  wind  of  the  night, 
was  like  spring ;  they  all  felt  a  tendency  to  be  pleased 
because  of  the  passing  of  the  snow ;  the  dogs  wagged 
their  tails  at  receiving  so  much  attention,  even  though 
they  were  held  back  from  the  kitten.  The  kitten, 
under  Mary's  stroking,  showed  a  disposition  to  feel 
herself  safe,  and  began  to  play  with  the  soft  white 
fingers.  The  men,  at  ease  now,  loitered  in  half- 
worshipful  admiration,  while  she  told  them  the 
tricks  of  a  kitten  and  a  dog  which  slie  had  at 
home. 

It  was  just  then  that  a  party  appeared  nearing  the 


TIIl^  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


179 


itten, 
feel 

white 
lialf- 

L    tlie 

ad   at 


ng 


tlie 


huts ;  three  men  were  riding  on  ponies — Hamilton, 
the  dwarf,  and  the  priest. 

Mary's  first  reflection  was  that  now  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  men  who  felt  for  her  nothing  but  rever- 
ence. She  had,  at  least,  wasted  no  time.  She  could 
not  have  sped  away  after  her  breakfast  soon  enough 
to  have  escaped  Hamilton,  for  he  would  have  met 
her  upon  the  road. 

As  soon  as  the  men  saw  who  was  coming,  their 
geniality  vanished.  They  began  to  talk  to  one 
another  in  twos  and  threes,  just  beyond  her  hearing. 
In  a  minute  the  Yankee  asked  her  quickly  to  tell 
them  what  it  was  "  Old  Harry  "  had  done,  and  why 
she  had  run  away. 

The  pleasure  of  being  natural  and  at  ease  was 
gone :  she  became  once  more  a  schemer.  For  an  in- 
stant she  was  in  miserable  indecision,  not  knowing 
whether  it  was  wiser  to  try  to  set  these  men  against 
Hamilton  by  showing  his  conduct  in  the  worst  light, 
or  to  appease  him  by  concealing  his  plot  and  its  fail- 
ure. Unable  to  tell  in  the  least  which  policy  would 
succeed  best,  she  fell  back  upon  the  simple  truth,  told 
as  it  would  be  told  by  a  heart  incapable  of  thinking 
more  evil  than  was  forced  upon  it. 

"  I  went  away  from  here  the  first  morning,"  she 
said,  "  because  I  was  very  ill,  and  I  hoped  I  should 
find  some  house  where  there  was  a  woi^an  who 
would  take  care  of  me.     I  walked  a  long  way,  and 


180 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


i  u 


the  only  place  I  came  to  was  full  of  Chinamen,  and 
they  frightened  nie."  (A  murmur  of  sympathy  went 
round  the  men.)  "And  that  big  tall  man — I  think 
his  name  is  ]\[r.  Hamilton — came  with  a  sledire,  and 
lie  said  he  would  take  me  where  I  would  be  safe.  So 
he  took  me  all  the  way  up  the  hill,  to  where  there 
were  three  huts,  and  I  lived  in  one  of  them  all  alone 
for  three  days.  He  was  very  kind ;  he  gave  me  fire 
and  food,  and  left  me  all  alone ;  but  yesterday  even- 
ing he  brought  the  little  man  with  the  crooked  back, 
and  a  priest  whom  he  had  sent  for  from  a  long  way 
over  the  hills ;  and  he  wanted  me  to  marry  him — to 
be  married  by  the  priest ;  and  when  I  would  not,  he 
was  very  angry.  So  I  was  frightened ;  and  when 
they  left  me  alone  I  climbed  out  of  the  hut,  and 
I  came  down  here  to  ask  you  all  to  take  care 
of  me,  and  to  take  me  back  to  the  railway  station 
safely." 

The  Yankee  silently  put  his  hand  to  his  hat,  and 
lifting  it  above  his  head,  waved  it  three  times,  as  if 
he  was  entirely  loyal  to  the  lady,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  said  nothing.  All  the  more  demonstrative  of 
the  men  joined  him  in  this  silent  gesture ;  but  they 
did  not  speak.  In  a  minute,  having  satisfied  their 
feelings,  as  it  were,  by  this  action,  they  thought  of 
the  next  thing  they  wished  to  do,  and  they  all  went 
away  to  meet  Hamilton. 

There  was  a  loud    consultation  at  the  place  of 


TTIK  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


181 


and 
las  ii 
Isaiiie 
^e  of 
tliey 
1  their 
lit  of 
went 

Ice  of 


meeting.  Mary  sat  still  wliero  she  was  and  watched 
tiiis  meeting  with  growing  anxiety.  She  felt  sure 
that  the  men  who  had  shown  themselves  to  have  such 
peaceful  intentions,  could  not  join  in  any  plot  against 
her.  She  tried  to  feel  sure,  in  spite  of  Hamilton's 
extraordinary  influence,  that  they  would  protect  her 
at  any  cost. 

In  a  minute  or  two,  out  of  the  group  of  men  and 
horses  Hamilton  walked.  He  strode  across  the  soft 
wet  ground  toward  her.  Even  when  he  was  quite  at 
a  distance  she  felt  that  his  step  and  bearing  were  not 
aniicable.  When  he  came  near,  she  saw  that  he  wore 
a  hard,  tyrannical  look.  She  had  often  heard  the 
modern  complaint  that  men  tyrannize  over  women. 
She  had  always  laughed  at  it  as  a  thing  that  was 
absurd.  A  woman  who  allowed  herself  to  be  tyran- 
nized over  was  merely  stupid,  and  deserved  her  lot. 
But  as  this  man  came  nearer  she  began  to  have  a  sen- 
sation that  the  ground  of  all  her  lifelong  security  was 
slipping  from  beneath  her  feet. 

He  strode  near,  and  stood  looking  down  at  her 
with  displeasure. 

"  Why  did  you  run  away  ? "  he  asked.  "  What 
was  all  that  canting  talk  about  the  trust  you  had  in 
me  ?  If  you  had  trusted  me — look  !  the  snow  is  gone 
now ;  it  is  quite  easy  to  get  to  the  station — if  you'd 
stayed  quiet,  I'd  have  taken  you  there  safe  enough. 
I  let  you  off  last  night ;  I  was  going  to  deal  fair  and 


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182 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


square  with  you  this  morning.  Kow  look !  after  the 
fool  you've  made  of  me,  you  shall  not  go." 

She  had  risen.  She  spoke  in  pale,  uncontrolled 
anger. 

"I  will  go."  . 

He  laughed  a  sneering  laugh.  It  seemed  as  if  he 
felt  the  laugh  to  be  answer  enough,  for  he  let  it  stand 
for  one. 

"  Do  you  think  for  a  moment,"  she  cried,  "  that 
all  those  men  are  going  to  stand  by  and  see  you  insult 
me?"  , 

"  A  nice  lot  of  religion  you  talked  to  us  last  night, 
oh  yes,  'pon  my  honour! — took  us  in,  too.  You 
really  set  me  feeling  quite  cublike  and  sentimental 
over  you,  although  I  had  seen  too  much  of  the  world 
to  show  it.  You  did  it  very  well."  He  laughed  the 
same  laugh  again,  and  turned  his  hand  to  her,  so 
that  something  he  had  held  concealed  showed  on  his 
open  palm.  "  What  was  it  you  said  your  name  was 
— Mary  Howard,  was  it  2 " 

It  was  the  silver  cigarette-case  with  her  name  en- 
graved upon  it.  She  knew  that  it  must  have  dropped 
from  her  dress  during  her  walk  hither. 

Hamilton,  still  sneering,  looked  at  her  with  a 
glance  which  he  intended  to  show  great  intelligence. 

"  Fell  from  the  train  in  your  sleep,  did  you,  my 
dear?  Oh  yes,  we  all  understand.  I'm  inclined  to 
think  there  is  some  more  interesting  explanation  of 


mi 

OUJ 

out 

lia( 

of 

evei 

waj 
(I 

my 
nam] 

com( 


THE  MACONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


183 


)ed 


yonr  descent  from  the  train  than  that;  and  since 
youVe  come  to  visit  us,  there's  no  reason  why  we 
should  be  inhospitable  because  you  don't  find  it  as  in- 
teresting as  you  thought  you  would.  We  don't  have 
much  groceries  stored  up,  but  I  think  we  can  perhaps 
manage  as  much  as  a  brandy-and-soda  all  round  to 
celebrate  the  finding  of  this  little  box.  You  would 
not  like  to  have  lost  it,  you  know.  It's  a  keepsake, 
isn't  it?" 

She  had  lost  some  of  the  violence  of  the  feeling 
of  personal  contradiction  towards  him  when  she 
realized  that  there  was  a  certain  logic  in  his  change 
of  mind  towards  her.  She  was  deep  in  thought  as  to 
how  to  explain  away  that  solid  silver  argument 
against  the  sobriety  of  her  character.  Custom 
makes  the  whole  significance  of  an  act  in  itself  col- 
ourless. According  to  the  only  knowledge  of  the 
outside  world  which  he  possessed,  the  man  was 
righteous  enough  in  his  attitude  towards  her — she 
had  the  justice  to  recognize  that.  She  had  the  spirit 
of  the  educated  woman  in  this,  that  she  was  just, 
even  when  her  mind  was  sore  put  to  it  to  invent  a 
way  of  escape. 

"  The  case  is  mine,"  she  said.  "  It  used  to  be 
my  brother's ;  and  when  he  died,  my  mother  had  my 
name  put  on  it  and  gave  it  to  me." 

The  dwarf  and  several  of  the  other  men  had 
come  up  now.    They  were  listening  with  interest. 


184 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


Hamilton  gave  a  short  laugh.  He  pressed  the 
spring,  and  laid  it  open  in  his  hand,  the  cigarettes 
showing. 

"  And  these  little  fellows  inside,"  he  said  ;  "  they 
belonged  to  the  dead  brother,  too  ? " 

Her  eyes  opportunely  filled  with  tears.  She  was 
not  able  to  bring  them  at  will,  but  pity  for  herself  at 
being  so  insulted  overcame  her  for  the  moment,  and 
she  had  the  wit  to  turn  the  emotion  to  account. 

"  He — only  died  last  year,"  she  said,  with  falter- 
ing voice,  "  and  I — I  have  kept  them  in  it  just  as 
he  left  them.  I  have  carried  it  about  always  with 
me  for  his  sake  " — here  she  put  her  small  hand  upon 
her  breast — "  and  last  night  I  remembered  that  there 
were  matches  in  it,  and  I  lit  them  all,  hoping  that 
the  train  would  see,  and  stop  for  me;  but  it  did 
not " 

Her  voice  had  entirely  died  away  with  the  last 
words.  She  was  wiping  her  eyes,  trying  to  control 
the  tendency  to  hysterical  sobs  which  she  felt.  She 
let  her  grief,  her  helplessness  and  misery,  all  plainly 
appear  in  her  trembling  attitude  and  white,  tear- 
stained  face.  She  had  all  her  life  despised  women 
who  use  these  weapons  in  the  warfare  of  life — she 
had  held  it  a  mean  and  paltry  thing  to  do ;  now  she 
was  only  too  thankful  to  hear  a  murmur  of  sympathy 
from  some  of  the  men. 

Encouraged  by  this,  she  looked  up  at  them.     The 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


185 


jar- 
en 
she 
she 

iTbe 


dwarf  standing  beside  Hamilton  had  a  look  of  anx- 
ious interest  in  his  thin  nervous  face ;  his  mind  was 
not  made  up.  The  murmur  of  sympathy  had  come 
from  the  more  ignorant  men  who  stood  behind  the 
two.  She  lifted  her  eye  to  meet  Hamilton's.  On 
his  handsome  wicked  face  there  was  still  the  sneering 
smile;  in  that  moment  she  saw  clearly — a  flash  of 
perception — that  this  man  was  clever  enough  to  see 
through  her  acting.  lie  had  been  shrewd  enough  to 
suspect  it  perhaps  since  the  first  day ;  last  night  his 
mind  had  wavered,  but  now  that  the  silver  box,  not 
the  cause  but  the  corroboration  of  his  suspicion,  had 
cleared  his  sight,  her  dissimulation  was  by  him  clear- 
ly detected.  No  doubt  he  supposed  the  deceit  to 
belong  to  a  life  and  character  wholly  different  from 
her  own,  but  that  he  was  certain  of  the  deceit,  and 
not  again  to  be  deceived,  she  understood.  Some 
tone  in  her  voice,  some  line  in  her  face,  had  made  it 
evident ;  and  now,  as  far  as  this  man  was  concerned, 
she  was  worse  off  than  if  she  had  not  sought  to 
appear  religious. 

She  turned  from  Hamilton,  and  looked  at  the 
others  with  silent  appeal. 

Hamilton  also  turned  to  them.  "When  this 
pretty  lady  was  up  at  Wilson's,"  he  said,  "  she  told 
me  that  if  I'd  get  the  priest  and  do  the  marrying, 
she'd  stay  and  be  queen  of  us  all.  You  see,  she  got 
tired  of  life  in  the  world,  had  her  own  reasons,  de- 


186 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


cided  she'd  seek  her  fortune  in  the  far  West — rather 
a  jolly  thing  for  us,  isn't  it  ?  I  have  taken  a  fancy 
to  the  lady,  and  the  lady  has  taken  a  fancy  to  me-- 
at  least,  that's  what  she  said  up  at  Wilson's.  Then 
we  had  a  little  quarrel,  and  that's  what's  put  her  in 
the  pouts  now ;  but,  bless  her !  she'll  come  round  out 
of  it.  And  we  don't  even  need  to  wait  for  that,  for 
the  priest  he's  got  to  go  back  to  the  Crees,  so  we'll 
have  to  make  use  of  him  while  he's  here.  Why, 
boys,  if  you  come  to  think  of  it,  it's  a  tremendous 
lark.  The  lady's  got  tin,  you  know — no  end  of  it, 
all  fastened  up  in  her  pocket-handkerchief.  You  see, 
when  she  left  her  happy  home  she  came  off  for  good, 
so  she  brought  her  booty  with  her.  We'll  have  the 
biggest  old  time  out  with  some  of  the  tin  to  celebrate 
the  wedding.  When  we  send  to  the  station  for  the 
lady's  wedding  clothes,  we'll  send  for  the  wedding 
breakfast  too.  I'll  build  a  new  house,  too,  for  me 
and  the  queen,  you  know.  We'll  keep  open  house 
to  the  whole  of  you ;  and  the  lady  is  graciously 
pleased  to  use  some  of  her  fortune  to  pay  off  that 
score  that  we  all  know  about.  We  like  to  be  rid  of 
old  scores." 

It  was  this  very  last  part  of  his  speech,  more  than 
any  other,  that  seemed  to  excite  and  animate  them ; 
but  to  the  whole  of  it  they  had  listened  with  more 
pleasure  than  disapproval.  In  a  wild  life  it  is  the  un- 
expected which  is  chiefly  desirable,  and  it  was  evident 


th( 

us, 

mai 


TUE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


187 


han 
iin; 
lore 
un- 
lent 


that  there  were  certain  reasons  why  this  plan  of  his 
was  peculiarly  welcome. 

All  the  men  were  around  her  now.  Mary  spoke, 
her  utterance  almost  thick  with  her  intense  loathing 
of  Hamilton. 

"  It  is  not  true.  I  have  no  money.  I  never  spoke 
to  him  in  a  friendly  way.  I  never  said  these  things ; 
he  lies." 

"  You  see,"  said  Hamilton,  still  holding  his  audi- 
ence by  an  eloquence  which  they  seemed  to  appre- 
ciate, "  the  hitch  in  the  matter's  just  this — the  lady 
showed  me  her  money.  How  would  I  know  she 
had  it  if  she  hadn't  shown  it  to  me  ?  And  we  were 
going  to  get  married  as  soon  as  the  priest  came,  as 
easy  and  nice  as  could  be ;  but  I  said  to  her,  *  My  dear, 
I'm  delighted  that  you've  had  the  goodness  to  turn  up 
and  marry  me  so  handy,  but  I'll  not  desert  my  boys. 
If  this  marriage  is  to  take  place  you  must  give  up  a  lot 
of  that  tin  to  pay  this  score  that  we  have  on  our  con- 
sciences— quite  providential  that  you  arrived  to  do  it, 
too.' " 

A  murmur  of  approval  went  round  the  men. 

"  It  was  about  that  that  the  little  lady  went  into 
the  sulks — not  that  she  minded  paying  our  debts  for 
us,  but  she  got  it  into  her  head  that  I  mightn't  be 
what  you  call  *  affectionate '  enough,  thought  I  was 
marrying  her  for  her  money.  Now,  I  put  it  to 
you  all ;  is  it  likely,  with  such  a  pretty  little  lady 


I 
II  Ilk  J 


ill  11 


t- 


I 


188 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


as  this,  that  a  man  would  want  to  marry  her  for  her 
money  f  " 

When  he  waved  his  hand  towards  her,  demand- 
ing that  they  should  look  and  see  for  themselves 
whether  she  was  not  worthy  of  his  affection,  their 
very  enthusiasm  for  her  turned  all  in  his  favour,  and 
they  expressed  themselves  as  certain  that  no  man 
would  need  to  marry  her  from  mercenary  motives. 

With  consummate  skill,  playing  always  upon  their 
very  admiration  and  pity  for  her,  and  also  upon  some 
secret  need  they  had  for  money  which  he  promised 
them,  holding  himself  up  before  them  as  greatly  gen- 
erous in  being  so  loyal  to  them  at  this  exciting  and 
romantic  juncture  of  his  own  life,  he  carried  their 
sentiment  with  him  moment  by  moment. 

Bewildered,  half-stunned  as  to  feeling,  Mary  stood 
listening.  It  came  to  her  mind  that  she  had  read  of 
slave  markets  where  women  were  bartered  away  by  a 
glib  auctioneer.  She  was  like  one  of  those  women 
now.  She  had  never  before  thought  to  pity  them 
much ;  so  novel  a  mode  of  marriage  had  seemed  to 
her  interesting  and  romantic.  She  remembered  once 
to  have  maintained  this  view,  saying  that  anything  was 
better  than  the  respectable  commonplace.  The  memory 
of  this  came  back  to  her  like  a  strange  dim  dream. 

Hamilton's  tirade  produced  in  her  almost  blank- 
ness  of  mind.  Sometimes  she  lifted  her  head,  and 
said  strongly,  "  It  is  not  true ; "  but  he  always  covered 


woi 


THE   MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


189 


of 

len 
hem 
to 
mce 
iwas 
Lory 


the  sound  of  her  voice  with  his  own  louder  words. 
She  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other ;  her  eye  found 
no  rest  except  upon  the  face  of  the  dwarf.  There, 
where  she  least  expected  it,  she  felt  that  there  was 
some  hope  for  her.  The  dwarf  said  nothing ;  he  did 
nothing.  He  was  endeavouring  to  ^x  his  face  into  its 
ordinary  look  of  cold  cynicism  ;  none  of  liis  compan- 
ions noticed  that  cynicism  was  not  really  there. 

At  length  Mary  ventured  to  appeal  to  him.  She 
spoke  not  in  the  former  tone  in  which  she  had  tried 
to  reach  all  the  men,  but  in  a  quick  aside,  addressed 
only  to  him.     "  You  know  that  this  is  not  true  ?  " 

"  How  do  I  know  ? "  he  replied,  exactly  in  the 
same  tone. 

It  was  very  curious,  but  as  Hamilton  was  still  per- 
suading the  men,  gaining  a  loud  and  easy  victory  for 
the  time,  and  as  they  in  turn  were  growling  or  ejacu- 
lating their  sentiments  upon  his  words,  Mary,  in  the 
very  midst  of  them  all,  held  parley  with  the  dwarf 
unheard  and  unnoticed. 

"  You  do  know,"  she  said ;  "  you  know  that  every 
word  I  said  to  you  last  night  was  true." 

There  came  a  look  of  almost  dreamy  reflection 
into  the  dwarf's  face. 

"  If  it  wath,  it  will  be  all  wight,"  he  said. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ? " 

There  came  upon  the  dwarf's  face  a  new  look ;  it 

was  almost  like  a  sunrise.     She  was  hardly  conscious 
13 


1:- 


I: 


190 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


that  by  these  words  she  had  put  herself  under  his 
protection  until  she  saw  the  great  pleasure  she  had 
given. 

She  hardly  knew  what  happened  in  the  next  few 
minutes.  Hamilton  was  giving  the  men  an  account 
of  the  interview  in  which  he  said  she  had  consented 
to  marry  him,  and  giving  it  with  such  minute  imagina- 
tive detail  that  it  was  difficult,  even  to  her,  to  believe 
it  fiction ;  and  they,  who  would  evidently  not  have 
trusted  his  word  in  mere  denial  or  affirmation,  being 
wholly  incapable  themselves  of  such  a  fictional  narra- 
tive, did  not  apparently  doubt  its  truth  in  the  main. 

She  felt  almost  hopeless  of  making  any  further 
appeal  to  the  other  men.  If  it  had  been  true  that  she 
had  once  consented  to  Hamilton's  plan  and  then  re- 
pented of  her  consent,  that  was  no  reason,  to  men 
like  these,  why  she  should  not  be  protected  now  and 
allowed  to  have  her  own  will.  It  was  clear  that  the 
reason  why  their  protective  instinct  was  ebbing,  as 
far  as  she  was  concerned,  was  that  her  character,  as 
represented  in  this  story,  was  not  one  for  which  they 
had  respect.  Nothing  was  said  against  her ;  she  was 
merely  represented  as  easy  in  manner,  indifferent  as 
to  past  and  future  as  long  as  she  could  enjoy  the 
present.  She  was  not  at  all  sure  that  Hamilton  had 
not,  by  some  subtle  insight,  hit  off  her  real  character 
pretty  truly,  and  it  sickened  her  to  find  that,  in  the 
eyes  of  these  men,  who  saw  no  nice  shade  of  differ- 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


191 


In  had 
[racter 
iin  the 
difier- 


ence,  such  a  sketch  represented  a  woman  wlio  could 
take  care  of  herself.  They  were  willing  to  hail  her  as  a 
jovial  companion  ;  their  protective  attitude  had  gone. 

Well,  after  all,  was  it  not  precisely  the  thing  she 
had  been  proud  of — that  she  could  take  care  of  her- 
self ?  and  here  she  was  left,  as  it  were,  by  this  com- 
pany of  men  simply  to  do  that  as  best  she  might. 

And  all  this  time  every  one  concerned  was  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  cattle-shed,  upon  the  soft  wet 
earth,  busy,  every  one  of  them,  talking  or  listening ; 
except  the  priest,  who,  a  strange  uncouth  figure,  was 
pacing  at  a  little  distance  with  a  curious  rapt  sort  of 
look,  as  if  he  might  be  performing  some  half-savage 
rite.  The  three  ponies,  still  saddled,  had  been  tied  to 
a  post ;  it  was  the  signal  for  the  breaking-up  of  the 
discussion  when  some  one  went  to  unsaddle  them. 

The  sky  was  grey  with  cloud  overhead  ;  the  huge 
sides  of  the  notch  looked  down  upon  them  ;  the  dig- 
ging with  its  flume  and  riffles  lay  brown  and  drear. 
The  huts  were  of  rough  un painted  wood  ;  the  men 
wore  rough  and  dirty  clothes.  The  one  solitary 
woman  wrapped  her  silken  veil  more  closely  round 
her,  and  shrank  from  them,  turning  again  to  the 
doorstep  of  the  cattle-shed ;  it  was  the  only  resting- 
place  that  seemed  in  any  sense  her  own.  She  felt 
that  she  could  almost  have  bartered  her  life  at  that 
moment  for  a  little  space  of  rest  and  peace — time  to 
gather  her  forces  to  resist  the  next  trial. 


i^ii.ii 


1! 


CHAPTER  XX. 


For  a  time  tlie  men  left  Mary  alone ;  the  work  of 
the  day  was  to  be  done.  Slie  wondered  at  her  own 
defeat.  She  had  been  ill,  but  she  considered  that  she 
had  got  better ;  she  had  not  enough  experience  of  ill- 
ness to  know  that  recovery  from  so  sharp  an  ailment 
was  impossible  until  more  time  had  elapsed.  She  had 
not  been  capable  of  enduring  the  exertion  of  the 
past  night  without  a  reaction  that,  even  amid  the  ex- 
traordinary excitement  of  her  present  situation,  pro- 
duced now  a  lassitude  which  seemed  to  her  almost 
imbecility. 

An  awful  fear  came  across  her  that  some  poison- 
ous thing  might  have  been  added  to  her  breakfast  to 
produce  her  present  feeling  of  helplessness.  She 
looked  about  at  the  men.  They  had  begun  to  go 
about  their  ordinary  morning  duties,  not  however  in 
an  ordinary  way,  for  they  were  much  excited ;  what- 
ever they  were  doing,  their  faces  were  apt  to  be 
turned  in  her  direction. 

She  heard  laughter  that  seemed  horrid  to  her; 


reqi 
past 
he 
done 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


193 


ion- 
to 

go 
Ir  in 

Ihat- 

be 


she  heard  them  shouting  one  to  another ;  she  felt  that 
behind  the  sliouts  was  a  current  of  excitement  in 
regard  to  lierself  and  Hamilton. 

She  dropped  her  head  upon  her  hands  because 
she  felt  hardly  strong  enough  to  hold  it  up.  She 
had  heard  of  people  walking  in  a  snowstorm  who, 
just  as  their  lives  depended  on  their  exertion,  were 
overcome  with  the  desire  to  sleep :  she  felt  like 
that  now. 

The  man  who  had  that  morning  come  first  into 
the  cattle-shed  was  working  inside  it  now.  She  spoke 
to  him. 

"What  is  the  name  of  the  little  man  with  the 
crooked  back  ? "  she  said. 

"  *  Handsome,' "  said  the  man.  "  *  Handsome,'  we 
call  him."  He  grinned  at  her  as  he  spoke;  it  was 
the  sort  of  humour  that  he  could  appreciate. 

Being  slow  of  thought  and  understanding  at  the 
time,  it  took  her  almost  a  minute  to  think  over  what 
he  had  said  and  say  something  in  return. 

"Will  you  go  and  tell  him  I  want  to  speak  to 
him  ? " 

The  man  appeared  much  satisfied,  as  if  the  trivial 
request  conferred  distinction  upon  him..  He  stepped 
past  her  with  an  expression  which  made  her  imagine 
he  would  tell  every  one  he  met  of  the  honour  she  had 
done  him. 

"Wait,"  she  said    feebly.     "J  don't    want    the 


194 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


others  to  come  around  me ;  don't  tell  any  one  but 
Handsome."  *' 

While  she  waited,  looking  about  her  at  the  hills,  it 
Beamed  to  her  that  hor  eyes  were  growing  dim,  for 
the  landscape  grew  less  distant.  When  she  looked 
up  and  saw  the  dwarf  beside  her,  this  immediate  fear 
was  her  principal  thought.  . 

"  They  gave  me  breakfast  before  you  came,"  she 
said.  "  Do  you  think  they  could  have  put  anything 
in  it  to  make  me  stupid  ? "  She  lifted  her  white  face 
to  him,  quivering  with  fear. 

"  Why  did  you  thend  for  me  ? "  he  asked.  Then 
quickly,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  as  if  ashamed 
of  his  cold  curiosity,  "No,  I'm  thure  they  didn't. 
You're  knocked  up  with  being  out  all  night.  Plucky 
of  you,  you  know ;  but  not  withe ;  natural — but  not 
withe.  You'd  weally  bowled  Hamilton  over  lath 
night,  you  know.  Pwetty  much  all  devil,  he  ith ;  but 
*the  devilth  altho  believe  and  twemble,'  you  know. 
He  wath  thcared  of  you  lath  night,  would  have  given 
in.  'Now  the  devil'th  got  hith  back  up — bad  thing 
that ;  and  then  there'th  the  cigawetth." 

She  felt  a  desire  to  speak  the  truth  to  this  man ; 
but  the  truth  was  so  difficult,  perhaps  impossible,  to 
explain ;  it  would  need  that  she  should  introduce  him 
to  a  new  class  of  ideas.  She  was  incapable  of  the 
effort,  and  to  have  made  it  unsuccessfully  would  have 
been  fatal  to  her  one  hope. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


196 


lan; 
le,  to 
him 
the 
have 


She  spoke  hastily.  "You  believe  what  I  have 
said,  don't  you?  You  believe  that  they  were  my 
brother's?  You  see,  when  I  was  travelling  I  was 
afraid  to  put  valuable  things  in  boxes,  and  I  w^as 
afraid  to  leave  them  about  in  the  sleeping  berth  in 
the  train,  so  I  took  all  that  was  valuable  and  wrapped 
it  in  a  packet  in  my  breast.  It  is  quite  true  what 
they  say,  that  I  have  money — a  little,  not  much — and 
my  ring ;  but  I  could  not  have  believed  that  any  set 
of  strong  English-speaking  men  would  rob  a  weak 
woman." 

The  dwarf  gave  her  a  sidelong  glance;  he  was 
standing  meditatively  at  the  side  of  the  doorstep. 
He  looked  a  muscular  man,  except  that  his  face  was 
thin  and  wore  a  nervous  look  of  suffering  that  implies 
a  certain  appearance  of  thought.  He  did  not  look 
like  a  good  man ;  but  the  furrows  of  beardless  cheek 
and  chin  were  relaxing  more  and  more,  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  towards  tenderness  or  pleasure,  but 
into  sadness  and  a  mood  of  reflection. 

"They'd  die  wather  than  wob  Beauty,  if  they 
called  it  wobbing,"  he  observed. 

"  Do  you  think,  then,  that  they  would  let  Hamil- 
ton bring  that  wicked  priest  near  me  again  ?  Would 
they  not  defend  me  from  Hamilton,  and  take  me  to 
the  train  ? " 

"Why  hath  Beauty  come  down  on  me  with 
widdleth  ? " 


i  If 


I  I: 


il 


'  >l 


til 


I  Mil'! 


196 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


"  I  did  not  like  you  at  first,"  she  said.  "  Now  I 
begin  to  feel  that  you  are  the  only  man  here  who  can 
stop  and  think.  No  one  would  ever  do  very  wicked 
things  if  they  thought  about  them  first,  surely." 

"  Wight  you  are,  with  regard  to  them  all  except 
Old  Hawwy — thinkth  like  the  devil,  he  doth." 

She  drew  a  long  sigh.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  tired,"  she 
said.  "  I  would  give  my  life  for  a  rest.  Is  there  no 
chance  of  his  relenting?  You  know  him,  and  you 
think — not  like  a  devil,  and  perhaps  not  like  an  angel 
either,  but  like  a  man  who  could  not  see  a  cruel  thing 
done  without  pain." 

She  felt  that  he  was  touched  by  this  representa- 
tion of  himself,  by  the  extreme  weariness  of  her  tone. 

His  words  were  reluctant.  "  Don't  think  he  will 
welent  now." 

^*  What  must  I  do?"  she  asked,  in  tones  in  which 
misery  was  growing  strong,  waking  her,  as  it  were, 
from  weakness  by  torture. 

She  thought  he  had  some  project  in  mind  to 
which  he  was  not  wholly  prepared  to  commit  him- 
self. It  must  have  been  something  she  had  said  the 
night  before  which  had  worked  upon  this  seemingly 
coldest  of  men  to  make  him  think  of  befriending  her. 
She  roused  herself  now  to  say  again  such  words  as 
might  decide  him  in  her  favour.  It  was  a  moment 
strong  with  fate ;  she  did  not  let  her  object  appear. 

"  I  am  so  tired,"  she  said,     "  I  feel  as  if  I  could 


in 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


197 


to 
Lm- 
Ithe 

m 

ler. 


lent 


)uld 


just  lay  my  head  down  somewhere  and  die.  I  would 
be  so  content.  But,  you  know,  our  lives  are  not  our 
own  to  give  away  like  that,  not  unless  we  have  to 
choose  between  doing  wrong  and  dying,  and  then  I 
think  it  would  be  right  to  die,  don't  you?  But  it 
seems  to  me  so  sad.  I  am  so  sorry  for  all  these  men  ; 
I  am  so  sorry  for  you ;  I  wish  so  that  I  were  a  mis- 
sionary, or  a  sister  of  charity,  or  some  one  like  that, 
who  could  quite  rightly  su^y  and  make  life  happier 
and  better  for  you  all.  These  men — what  have  they 
to  teach  them  the  love  of  God  when  no  one  loves 
them  on  earth  I  Ah,  I  wish  that  all  the  idle  worldly 
women  I  know  could  see  what  I  see,  and  they  would 
give  up  their  foolish  pastimes  and  come  to  places 
like  this,  and  just  be  gentle,  and  good  and  true,  and 
merry  in  their  own  way — not  singing  hymns,  you 
know,  I  don't  believe  in  too  much  of  that,  but  just 
be  themselves,  wearing  clean  beautiful  dresses,  and 
siuging  and  reading  to  the  men,  singing  beautiful 
songs  that  everybody  understands,  and  reading  story 
books  and  poems,  and  having  the  fear  of  God  always 
iu  their  faces." 

She  had  sketched  the  ideal  absurdly  enough,  be- 
cause she  had  really  small  notion  how  to  put  it  to- 
gether. Her  words  arose  partly  from  the  generous 
impulse  of  pity  and  good  nature  which  was  natural 
to  her  heart,  but  chiefly  from  the  desire  to  act  a 
saintly  part  which  had  actuated  her  hitherto.     She 


i  ! 


198  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

wanted  now  to  make  him  think  that  she  was  worth 
saving.  "  And  now,"  she  went  on  quickly,  yet  still 
in  pathetic  reflective  tones,  "it  seems  so  sad  that, 
instead  of  being  able  to  help  these  men  at  all,  I  should 
only  have  the  life  crushed  out  of  me  by  their  un- 
kindness ;  for  I  am  not  strong  enough  to-day,  indeed* 
I  am  not,  to  argue  and  struggle,  even  to  shriek,  or 
beg  them  to  have  pity  upon  me ;  and  you  say,  you 
really  say,  that  you  think  Hamilton  will  not  relent." 

He  made  a  sound  as  if  beginning  to  speak,  and 
then  was  silent  again.  After  a  moment  he  did  speak, 
not  looking  at  her,  not  using  attitude  or  expression 
that  would  suggest  that  he  was  saying  anything  im- 
portant, looking  in  fact  steadily  at  the  man  who  hap- 
pened to  be  nearest  to  them,  about  twelve  yards  away. 

"  You  thee,  I  believe  that  Beauty  hath  fear  of 
God  in  her  own  face;  worth  while  to  take  Beauty 
ij  thtation  if  pothible.  "Wondered  how  I  could  man- 
age to  get  off,  but  now  Beauty'th  given  me  new  idea 
about  dwops  to  make  one  thtupid.  Have  very  bad 
painth  thometimeth:  lotth  of  thleeping  dwops — 
wather  dangewouth  twick."  He  stopped;  he  was 
evidently  trying  to  think  out  the  details  of  his  plan. 
In  a  minute  he  went  on  again,  attacking  the  subject 
at  a  slightly  different  point.  *  Old  Hawwy'th  going 
to  get  up  gwand  dwink,  woatht  a  whole  ox  behind 
the  bawn  before  he  bwingth  on  the  pwietht  again. 
Thinkth  you'll  thcweam,   and  all   that.     Wanth   to 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


199 


lan- 

idea 

bad 

was 

)lan. 

)ject 

foing 

thind 

;aiii. 
Ih   to 


have  a  high  old  time  going  on  to  cawwy  it  off. 
Won't  bwing  on  the  pwietht  till  after  the  d winks. 
Wind'th  going  down ;  fog  coming  on.  Geth  dawk 
early  here."  He  stopped  again,  as  if  at  some  obstruc- 
tion of  thought ;  then,  after  a  minute,  he  said  delib- 
erately, "  Beauty'th  knocked  up,  quite  knocked  up ; 
will  need  all  her  thwength.  Beauty  must  go  inthide 
and  lie  on  the  hay.  Beauty 'th  thafe  enough ;  give 
Beauty  my  word — thall  not  be  dithturbed." 

She  saw  now  that  what  had  seemed  the  dimness 
of  her  eyes  was  gathering  mist.  She  wondered  how 
it  would  help  her,  but  had  not  strength  to  think  the 
matter  out. 

"  You  give  me  your  word  1  shall  lose  nothing  by 
resting  now  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Go  in  and  thleep,  beth  thing  Beauty  can  do ; 
give  my  word  on  it." 

She  did  not  look  at  him  ;  she  looked  away  where 
he  was  looking,  aware  that  there  must  be  no  outward 
sign  of  compact,  but  she  said  in  a  low  ringing 
voice — 

"  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  thank  you.  Some 
day — some  day,  if  God  saves  us  alive,  I  will  show 
you  how  grateful  I  am." 

She  went  in,  past  the  horned  heads  of  the  oxen, 
and  sat  down  again  upon  the  pile  of  loose  hay.  She 
did  not  mean  to  sleep ;  she  meant  to  rest,  alert  and 
vigilant,  until  she  could  think  over  this  new  develop- 


200 


THE  MADONNA  OF   A  DAY. 


ment.  Weakness  and  tlie  relaxing  quality  of  the 
mild  air  completely  overcame  her.  Jler  head  sank 
upon  her  arm,  her  arm  upon  the  hay  ;  Fhe  would  just 
sleep  for  a  minute  and  then  be  vigilant  again. 

The  dwarf  shut  the  door,  and  sat  down  outside 
with  his  back  to  it.  Inside,  the  lady  slept  pro- 
foundly. 


a 

ei 
h 


W    ■ 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


Mary  did  not  wake  until  she  was  aroused  by  a 
voice.  She  saw  the  dwarf  standing  in  the  dim  light 
of  the  shed.  On",  of  the  oxen  was  stretching  out  its 
long  nose  over  his  shoulder,  expecting  him  to  furnish 
food.  The  dwarf  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  the 
animal ;  he  was  looking  at  Mary  with  a  strange  ex- 
pression of  excitement. 

He  made  a  gesture ;  he  said  a  word — "  Come." 

She  could  not  gather  her  mind  at  first  to  under- 
stand,  for  it  seemed  bnt  a  minute  or  two  since  she  had 
been  talking  to  him  before ;  yet  she  always  remem- 
bered afterwards  how,  in  that  dazed  moment,  he  had 
appeared  to  her — the  short  broad  sinewy  form,  elate 
as  it  seemed  with  a  big  thought  of  some  sort ;  the  thin 
white  suffering  face  looking  singularly  happy,  not  at 
all  with  the  happiness  of  pleasure,  but  with  a  joy  in 
which  pride  and  sorrow  were  mingled,  and,  curiously 
enough,  it  seemed  the  pride  was  not  in  anything  he 
had  done,  but  in  her. 

"  Why  should  he  be  proud  of  me?"  she  thought 


201 


202 


TUE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


to  herself.     It  was  her  first  distinct  waking  thought. 
"  Proud  of  me  I  why  ? » 

"  Come  I  "  he  said  again. 

She  staggered  to  her  feet,  pushing  her  soft  dark 
hair  back  from  her  face  with  both  hands,  passing  her 
fingers  across  her  eyes  as  if  to  clear  her  vision.  He 
went  out  of  the  shed  ;  she  followed  him. 

Three  of  the  men  were  standing  by  the  door.  As 
she  glanced  from  face  to  face,  she  saw  that  they  were 
the  best  of  the  men ;  the  tall  Yankee  was  there,  and 
two  of  the  boys ;  they  were  holding  two  ponies  sad- 
dled. It  was,  perhaps,  about  three  in  the  short  winter 
afternoon.  A  white  fog  had  gathered  everywhere  in 
the  air ;  it  was  not  dense,  but  it  shut  out  the  hills.  She 
looked  about  all  the  other  buildings  with  swift  ap- 
prehension, wondering  what  she  was  to  understand. 
Except  the  men  at  the  door,  there  was  no  sign  of  life 
anywhere ;  the  two  dogs  lay  sleeping  as  if  they  were 
dead. 

The  dwarf  betrayed  excitement ;  he  began  to  bustle. 
Pulling  the  nearest  pony  close  to  her,  he  pointed  out 
a  rude  horn  which  they  had  fastened  upon  the  saddle 
to  make  it  possible  for  a  woman  to  sit  sideways  upon 
it.  He  told  her  that  she  must  mount  at  once,  and  they 
must  be  off. 

As  she  was  clumsily  mounting,  they  told  her  what 
had  been  done.  A  narcotic  had  been  mixed  with  the 
men's  dinner.     Handsome  had  not  dared  to  put  in  any 


a 


TUE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


203 


istle. 
out 
ddle 

|upon 
they 

I  what 

the 

In  any 


quantity  which  might  have  lasting  cffe'jt.  It  was 
impossible  to  say  how  much  Hamilton  and  liia  friends 
had  taken,  even  of  the  portion  given  them.  They 
were  in  a  lethiirgic  state  now,  but  no  one  could  tell 
how  long  it  would  last.  The  three  accomplices  were 
going  to  feign  sleep  when  the  others  awakened. 

"  I  guess  most  ladies  can  ride  when  something  de- 
pends on  it,"  said  the  Yankee.  lie  gave  the  reins 
into  her  hand.  "  Steady  now  I  Don't  give  him  his 
head.  You've  got  a  mighty  lot  of  saving  yourself  to 
do,  managing  that  pony.     No  one  can  do  it  for  you." 

There  was  no  time  lost.  The  dwarf  rode  on  in 
front.  Even  in  the  excitement  of  feeling  the  fantas- 
tic strangeness  of  the  deep  sleep  that  had  fallen  on  the 
busy  settlement,  even  in  the  fear  of  riding  off  into  un- 
known wilds  in  the  gathering  fog,  upon  a  horse  that 
she  did  not  know,  with  a  man  whom  she  had  not 
much  reason  to  trust — even  then  Mary's  eye  caught 
something  in  the  faces  of  the  men  standing  be- 
side her  that  made  her  feel  again  the  pathos  of 
their  life. 

All  three  men  were  eager  that  she  should  be  gone ; 
yet  she  held  her  reins  tight  while  she  leaned  over  and 
shook  hands  with  each.  One  hard  hand  after  another 
held  hers.  She  looked  in  their  faces,  and  she  had  again 
a  glimpse  of  a  vision  of  power  quite  different  from 
that  on  which  she  had  thought  when  she  had  con- 
ceived of  herself  as  an  actress,  different  indeed  from 


204  THE  MADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 

any  exaltation  conjured  up  in  her  brain  by  the 
strength  of  vanity. 

As  a  rider  the  dwarf  was  fearless.  As  soon  as 
they  were  nearly  out  of  sound  of  the  huts,  he  asked 
her  if  she  could  gallop  as  far  as  the  railway,  for  it 
was  the  best  bit  of  road  they  would  have. 

After  that  they  went  through  the  plain  of  the 
notch  as  a  gust  of  wind  or  a  cloud  of  dust  travels. 
The  rude  wooden  horn  that  they  had  screwed  upon 
a  man's  saddle  enabled  her  to  cling  to  her  seat.  It 
was  a  mere  matter  of  clinging  ;  there  was  no  ease  in 
the  grasp  which  her  knee  had  around  it ;  and  yet  she 
did  not  think  of  this ;  if  it  gave  her  pain  she  did  not 
know  it.  In  that  first  two  miles'  dash  of  speed  she 
had  but  one  distinct  thought;  all  others  were  like 
spectres  of  thought  that  floated  by.  Her  distinct 
thought  was,  that  her  pony  had  got  his  head,  and 
that  she  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that  when  she 
reached  the  embankment  she  could  check  him.  The 
thoughts  that  passed  like  spectres  were  picturings  of 
the  curious  thing  that  was  taking  place,  for,  as  the 
dwarf  rode  in  front,  he  was  more  like  a  misty  thing 
of  poetic  lore  than  a  real  body— so  dim  the  mist 
made  their  figures.  It  seemed  to  her  that  they  two 
were  like  ghosts  in  stories  such  as  she  had  sometimes 
heard  of — stories  of  glens  or  highways,  haunted 
always  by  the  passing  of  some  typical  figures  who 
Jiad  at   some   time  impressed   themselves  upon  the 


0 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


205 


lie 


imagination  of  the  race  by  the  striking  relation  they 
bore  to  some  side  of  life  or  death.  She  and  her 
companion,  galloping  madly  down  this  misty  echoing 
waste,  were  perhaps  translated  already  into  the  region 
of  types  and  ideals — he  a  wicked  man,  deformed 
body  and  soul,  with  just  that  spark  of  true  life  left 
in  him  that  enabled  him  for  once  to  reverence  and 
save  a  woman  he  deemed  good,  and  she  a  woman 
unworthy  of  his  reverence.  While  the  wild  excite- 
ment of  the  racing  ponies  communicated  itself  to  her 
nerves,  she  saw  herself  passing  swift  like  a  ghost  in 
the  mist,  a  degraded  mixture  of  good  and  evil — good, 
because  a  certain  level  of  goodness  had  been  hers  by 
birth,  forced  upon  her  from  without;  evil  desper- 
atelj     vil,  because  she  had  sought  to  rise  no  higher. 

Some  wild  cattle  near  their  path  caught  the  ex- 
citement of  the  gallop.  She  heard  their  heavy  feet 
rushing  madly ;  she  did  not  see  them.  The  sounds 
they  made  added  to  the  ghostliness.  The  mist  was 
denser  here ;  she  began  to  wonder  how  dense  the 
mist  of  death  would  be.  Was  she  riding  swift, 
direct,  into  the  region  of  ghosts  which  comes  after 
death? 

When  they  neared  the  railway  line,  the  dwarf,  see- 
ing that  she  had  lost  control  of  her  pony,  brought  his 
own  up  with  it  and  caught  her  bridle.  Then  she 
knew  that  the  excitement  of  the  galloping  had  given 

her  foolish  fancies. 
14 


. 


206 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


The  dwarf  continued  to  lead  her  pony  down  the 
other  side  of  the  embankment  and  across  the  bridge. 
Between  the  bank  of  the  river  and  the  edge  of  the 
forest  she  saw  there  was  a  road  which  had  not  ap- 
peared while  the  snow  lay.  Along  this  they  turned, 
toward  the  west. 

Great  boulders  of  the  river  bank  could  be  seen 
to  the  right  hand,  and  to  the  left  the  outskirts  of  the 
green  forest ;  beyond  that  it  was  mist.  They  heard 
the  river  rushing  loudly,  but  could  not  descry  its 
movement.  They  heard  birds  and  squirrels,  enliv- 
ened by  the  mild  weather,  among  the  trees,  but  could 
not  see  them.  Pretty  soon  the  road  turned  com- 
pletely into  the  forest. 

They  were  riding  upon  such  a  road  as  she  had 
walked  on  to  the  Chinese  Settlement,  but  now  the 
ground  was  moist  and  dark  underfoot.  The  trees 
were  dripping  with  the  moisture  of  evaporation. 
Twilight  here  had  her  lair,  from  which  she  was 
presently  going  forth  to  the  open  regions  of  the 
earth.  The  great  trees  in  the  mist  looked  greater 
than  they  had  done  in  the  morning  light;  to  eyes 
unaccustomed  to  their  greatness  it  was  an  unearthly 
enchanted  place.  The  firs  held  their  shelves  of  shade 
motionless  above  ;  the  cedars  swept  their  long  fans  of 
green  downward  to  the  earth.  The  prostrate  logs 
of  a  former  growth  of  trees  had  been  hewn  away 
from   the   trail ;    the    ground   underneath  was  firm 


I] 

•    I 

m 


THE   MADONNA   OF  A   DAY. 


207 


B 


10 

P- 
d, 


sen 
tlio 
ard 
its 
iliv- 
ould 
3om- 


had 
tlie 
trees 
ition. 
,  -was 
the 
eater 
eyes 

Tthly 
shade 

,ns  of 
logB 
away 
firm 


enough,  strewn  with  the  droppings  of  cedar,  and 
hemlock,  and  fir.  The  footsteps  of  the  ponies  were 
ahnost  noiseless  upon  it;  huge  crows  that  dived 
above  among  the  billows  of  evergreen  branches  made 
more  noise,  and  so  did  the  scolding  scpiirrels.  In 
front  of  her,  through  the  mist,  the  dwarf  rode  on. 

They  were  riding  quickly,  but  not  with  all  speed 
as  before.  Mary  felt  now  the  pain  of  her  knee  round 
the  misshapen  pummel  of  her  saddle ;  it  was  sharp, 
but  it  did  not  distress  her.  That  she  was  going  away 
from  unendurable  persecution  gave  her  perfect  con- 
solation ;  where,  exactly,  she  was  going  she  did  not 
know.  She  was  following  the  dwarf  with  absolute 
trust,  yet,  when  she  came  to  reason  the  matter,  she 
descried  little  ground  for  confidence.  This  brought 
her  to  the  contemplation  of  the  dwarf  as  a  person, 
rather  than  as  a  tool. 

She  felt  that  she  must  talk  to  him,  if  only  to 
discover  where  he  was  leading  her,  and  yet  she  had 
grown  almost  more  curious  now  to  discover  what  he 
was  thinking  of,  and  why  he  kept  silence,  always 
looking  on  before. 

Her  spirits  were  high.  For  the  first  time  in  these 
dreary  days  she  felt  comparatively  at  ease  with  her 
companion,  and  her  manner  at  once  became  natural. 
In  her  normal  condition,  although  she  thought  noth- 
ing of  fibbing,  she  was  an  honest  little  person.  Only 
what  she  deemed  necessity  had  made  her  appear  other 


208 


THE  MADONNA   OF   A   DAY. 


than  she  was.  Iler  natural  sociability  and  good-heart- 
edness  now  came  uppermost,  but  was  mingled  with 
the  impulse  to  make  herself  ao  safe  as  possible  by 
working  upon  his  sympathy. 

She  called  to  him ;  she  knew  only  one  mode  of 
address.  "  Handsome,"  she  called  ;  "  oh,  Handsome  I 
I  am  almost  afraid  I  cannot  ride  so  fast  much  far- 
ther." 

The  dwarf  peered  apprehensively  behind. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  asked,  "  that  he  will  follow 
us?" 

Tliere  was  no  doubt  with  cither  of  them  to  whom 
the  pronoun  referred. 

Handsome  merely  said,  "  If  he  wakth  up." 

"You  can't  tell  how  long  he  will  sleep?"  she 
asked,  still  in  a  talkative  humour. 

"Don't  know  how  many  dwopth  of  thtuff  he 
thwallowed." 

She  had  a  curious  feeling  all  this  time  that  she 
had  broken  into  some  high  dream  in  which  he  had 
been  indulging ;  that  she  was  losing  something  of  his 
respect,  merely  because  she  wanted  to  talk ;  yet  she 
could  not  go  back  to  silence.  It  was  fast  growing 
dark ;  crows  and  squirrels  were  silent ;  it  would  soon 
be  deep  night,  and  the  thought  was  terrible,  unless 
she  could  find  out  something  of  what  was  passing  in 
the  man's  mind. 

"I  will  not  grow  tired,"  she  said  humbly.     "I 


Vf  A 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


209 


1 


-  ^ 


she 

he 

tt  slie 
had 
lof  his 
5t  she 
►wing 
soon 
lunless 

[ing  in 
"I 


will  ride  as  far  and  as  fast  as  you  want  me  to.  I 
know  it  is  for  my  sake  you  are  doing  it,  and  I  am  so 
tliankful  to  you." 

She  heard,  or  thought  she  heard,  him  begin  his 
next  words  in  a  tenderer  tone,  but  he  hastily  reas- 
sumed  that  of  light  cynicism. 

^'Beauty  mutht  go  on  widing;  hard  on  Beauty; 
not  tho  hard  ath  being  caught." 

Phrases  like  .these  falling  from  his  lips  had  so  im- 
pressed themselves  upon  her  mind  in  hours  of  terror, 
and  those  hours  had  seemed,  or  really  been,  so  long  a 
part  of  her  lifetime,  that  it  seemed  entirely  familiar 
to  her  to  hear  his  speech.  All  that  was  odd  about 
it  was  that  her  whole  relation  to  him  had  changed. 
They  were  now  friends,  huddling  together,  as  it  were, 
in  fear  of  a  common  enemy. 

"  Twemendouthly  lucky  hour,"  remarked  the 
dwarf ;  "  pitth  dark  in  a  minute,  and  the  fog — don't 
have  a  fog  like  thith  wonthe  a  year.  But  bletht  if  I 
know  how  we're  to  get  to  the  thation." 

The  very  real  difficulty  of  the  way  now  struck 
her  forcibly ;  hitherto  she  had  left  its  consideration 
entirely  to  him. 

"I  was  so  glad,  so  very  glad,  to  get  away," 
she  said,  "  that  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else, 
so  far." 

"Woad  leadth  thwough  the  canyon,"  said  the 
dwarf ;  and  the  grim  way  in  which  he  said  it  made 


210 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


her  know  that  the  canyon  offered  no  easy  pass  for 
the  horses.  Moreover,  the  terseness  of  his  phrases 
began  to  give  her  a  feeHng  of  new  timidity  towards 
him.  She  began,  then,  and  afterwards,  to  understand, 
thongh  from  no  word  of  his,  that  he  was  making 
more  of  a  sacrifice,  in  some  way,  for  her  than  she 
knew  or  could  know.  She  felt  that,  in  her  transient 
relation  to  him,  it  was  useless  to  attempt  to  investi- 
gate this.  It  only  remained  a  dim  fact,  shadowing 
her  dealings  with  him,  and  producing  in  her  a  new 
humility. 

"  Is  it  very  difficult  to  get  through  the  canyon  ?  " 
she  asked,  as  a  child  would. 

"  When  there'th  light,  jutht  wide  on  the  woad  till 
one  getth  thwough  ;  only  four  niileth ;  thlow  work, 
but  one  getth  to  the  other  end.  When  itth  dark  ath 
pitth,  madneth  to  twy ;  wocktli  and  the  wiver  about 
fifty  feet  beneath  ;  wockth  about  theven  hundred 
feet  above — madneth  to  twy." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  She  felt  that  her 
voice  came  rather  faintly. 

"  There'tl  a  houthe,  if  I  can  find  it.  Beauty  may 
weth  athured  I  will  do  my  betht  to  find  it." 

There  was  almost  a  solemnity  in  his  words,  which 
reminded  her  that  he  had  said  he  believed  she  had 
the  fear  of  God  in  her  face.  She  took  courage ;  how- 
ever absurd  his  reverence  for  her  might  be,  she  be- 
lieved it  would  bring  her  to  safety. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


211 


V 


lier 


I  may 


had 
Ihow- 
be- 


"  Are  there — are  there  nice  people  in  the  house  ? " 
slie  asked.     "  Is  there  a  woman  in  it  ? " 

"  Keep  Beauty  outthide  all  night  watlier  than  take 
her  where  the  folkth  aren't  nithe." 

If  he  spoke  in  an  assured  tone,  he  also  spoke 
sadly,  and  this  sadness  and  constraint  of  his  made  her 
feel  that  unnecessary  talking  was  out  of  place. 

The  pony  brushed  her  so  close  to  a  trunk  of  a  tree 
that  she  checked  him  with  a  cry  ol  fear. 

"  Beatht  can't  thee,"  observed  the  dwarf. 

Whereupon  he  got  down,  and  led  both  his  pony 
and  hers ;  not  that  he  could  see  as  well  as  they,  but 
that  he  had  got  a  better  knowledge  of  the  space  re- 
quired for  a  woman  to  ride  in. 

She  knew  from  his  height,  from  the  awkwardness 
of  his  gait,  that  his  present  progress,  holding  an  arm 
to  either  pony,  must  be  laborious  and  painful  to  him. 
She  wanted  to  tell  him  how  grateful  she  was,  and 
found  in  herself  no  expression  that  appeared  to  fit 
the  circumstances  and  his  sad  mood. 

a  ^e're  not  going  faster  than  I  can  walk,"  she 
said  at  length.  "  I  can  lead  my  own  horse  ;  it  would 
rest  me  to  get  down  and  walk."  This  last  w^as  to 
make  him  think  that  her  offer  did  not  imply  recogni- 
tion of  his  deformity. 

But  he  would  not  let  her  walk  ;  he  gave  as  excuse 
that  the  animals  would  not  walk  quietly,  and  she 
might  be  injured  by  their  feet.     In  truth,  the  ponies 


M 


212 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


did  not  walk  quietly ;  but  she  was  quite  aware  that 
under  the  dwarf's  refusal  lay  a  stronger  reason  than 
any  he  had  given  :  exactly  what  it  was  she  did  not 
know,  but  she  perceived  that  he  did  not  wart  her 
upon  the  ground  beside  him.  In  his  mind  he  had 
placed  her  on  some  level  of  life  wholly  different  from 
his  own — a  creature  to  be  cared  for  as  he  would  have 
cared  for  a  little  child,  to  be  worshipped  as  he  would 
have  worshipped  an  angel.  It  was  not  her  best  judg- 
ment that  this  was  the  right  relation  of  woman  to 
man,  and  yet  she  wrapped  herself  in  this  ideal  of  his 
only  too  thankfully. 

There  was  not  a  sound  in  the  darkness  but  the 
roaring  of  the  river.  Il  was  so  dark  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  her  to  realize  that  as  yet  it 
could  not  be  six  o'clock.  They  were  travelling 
through  the  heart  of  the  kingdom  of  solitude. 


m: 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


The  road  turned  out  from  under  the  trees.  She 
was  aware  of  this  bj  a  slight  lightening  of  the  op- 
pressive darkness ;  the  mist  was  still  such  that  they 
could  see  nothing.     The  dwarf  stopped  irresolute. 

"  Cwoss  woad  somewhere  about  here,"  he  mur- 
mured. 

"  Ohj  do  you  think  we  can  find  it  ? "  she  asked. 
She  knew  it  was  a  foolish  question,  but  he  was  very 
patient  with  her. 

"Happier  if  I  knew,"  he  replied,  meditatively. 
"  Haven't  been  very  long  in  tliethe  partth." 

He  had  hardly  said  this  when  his  hand  suddenly 
jerked  both  bridles  so  that  the  ponies  jumped.  He 
uttered  no  word  at  first,  but  she  felt  that  the  jerk  was 
involuntary,  the  result  of  nervous  shock.  She  knew 
that  he  hardly  breathed  for  a  moment  or  two  after 
the  ponies  were  quiet  again.  They  turned  their 
heads  backward,  as  if  listening ;  she  seemed  to  feel 
the  listening  of  the  whole  group.  Another  moment 
and  she  too  heard. 

213 


214 


TJIE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


There  was  the  sound  of  a  horse  coming  after 
them  ;  it  was  coming  fast  down  tho  long  lane  between 
the  trees. 

She  felt  herself  lifted  down  from  her  pony ;  the 
dwarf's  nervous  temperament  was  such  that  in  his 
excitement  he  did  not  know  what  he  did.  After  he 
had  pulled  her  down  he  stood  for  a  moment  with 
both  arms  round  her,  in  agony  of  protective  fear,  just 
as  he  would  have  embraced  a  darling  child  which 
some  one  was  going  to  take  from  him.  A  minute 
afterwards  he  did  not  know  that  he  had  done  tills , 
she  thought  it  probable  that  he  never  knew. 

While  he  still  held  her,  he  said,  "Wun  into  the 
twees  stwaight  in  fwont.  Logth  lying  on  the 
ground ;  cwal  over  them  quick,  far  ath  you  can,  and 
lie  down  between  two.     Keep  quiet." 

She  felt  him  put  the  reins  of  both  ponies  over  his 
arms ;  both  the  animals  began  to  dance.  She  lost  not 
a  moment  in  extricating  herself  from  the  group  :  she 
rushed  in  between  the  standing  trees ;  she  flung  her- 
self over  the  fallen  logs.  These  lay  for  the  most  part 
in  one  direction,  so  that  after  crossing  a  few  she  knew 
which  way  they  were  likely  to  lie,  and  what  was  the 
depth  of  the  gap  between  them.  Fortunately  in  the 
mist  sound  carried  very  far;  it  was  full  five  minutes 
after  they  heard  the  horse  behind  them  before  it 
came  parallel  with  her  on  the  road.  By  this  time  she 
was  lying,  as  she  had  been  told  to,  upon  the  ground,  • 


THE  ]V.  ADONNA  OP  A   DAY. 


215 


tlie 
tlie 
and 


lier- 

part 

mew 
is  the 
In  the 
Inutes 

)re  it 

Le  she 
lound,  • 


between  two  prostrate  decaying  trees.  She  was  con- 
scious now  that  during  her  own  rapid  progress  she 
liad  heard  the  dwarf  and  tlie  ponies  moving  also  ; 
they,  too,  were  now  quite  silent. 

She  knew  that  the  man  who  was  riding  upon  that 
other  horse  was  mad ;  on  such  a  road  no  one  but  a 
madman  could  have  ridden  thus.  No  word  had 
passed  between  her  and  the  dwarf  as  to  who  followed 
them,  but  no  doubt  had  arisen  in  her  mind.  Had 
Hamilton  a  dog  ?  Had  he  a  lantern  ?  She  did  not 
dare  to  raise  her  head  to  look  for  the  light. 

The  pursuer  stopped  where  the  road  turned  out 
of  the  forest.  At  first  she  thought  nothing  but  that 
he  had  stopped  because  he  had  come  upon  the  dwarf 
or  the  ponies. 

There  came  a  pause  in  which  there  was  no  sound. 
Slie  did  not  feel  any  hope  of  escape.  She  laid  down 
her  face  upon  the  cold  ground,  her  heart  panting 
within  her.  The  man  Hamilton  was  mad,  and  she 
was  in  his  clutches.  It  was  an  awful  fear,  a  moment 
by  which  all  other  moments  of  her  life  seemed  small, 
it  was  so  big  with  thought  and  feeling.  The  relation 
of  all  things  shifted  again  for  her  now,  as  it  had  once 
done  before;  for  it  is  impossible  in  a  moment  of 
extreme  need  not  to  scan  the  horizon  of  human  life 
from  a  level  in  which  its  trivialiti  are  unseen,  as  the 
pebbles  and  flowers  of  a  plain  are  unseen  by  the 
spectator  upon  the  mountain. 


216  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

A  horse  began  to  move.  At  first,  in  her  agony, 
she  felt  sure  it  was  one  of  those  which  the  dwarf  had 
been  holding.  In  a  few  seconds  she  perceived  that  the 
horse  and  rider  last  come  were  moving  onward.  She 
raised  her  head  ;  there  was  no  gleam  of  light  such  as 
a  lantern  would  give;  she  heard  no  breathing  or  foot- 
steps of  a  dog. 

In  a  minute  more  it  seemed  evident  that  Hamilton, 
if  Hamilton  it  was,  had  stopped  to  look  and  listen  at 
that  point  for  the  same  reason  that  the  dwarf  had 
stopped,  because  it  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  reach 
of  the  road,  and  near  a  parting  of  ways. 

She  heard  the  receding  sound  of  his  going  a  longer 
time  than  she  had  heard  it  coning,  for  he  went  more 
slowly.  She  heard  also  slight  movement  from  time  to 
time,  which  told  her  that  the  dwarf  and  the  ponies  were 
not  very  distant.  After  a  while  she  began  to  hear 
certain  stealthy  sounds  coming  nearer.  The  feet  of 
the  ponies  she  still  heard  at  intervals;  they  w^ere 
farther  away. 

Next  came  a  soft  breathing  sound,  that  reached  far, 
making  almost  no  noise.     "  Hithed  ! " 

She  lifted  her  head,  and  tried  to  answer  the  sound. 
She  had  no  sooner  done  so  than  the  movement  began 
again,  coming  towards  her.  The  soft  signal  was  made 
to  her  again,  and  again  she  answered.  By  this  means 
the  dwarf  came  within  a  few  feet  of  where  she  was. 

"  Lithten ! "  said  the  voice  of  the  dwarf ;  "  he'tli 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


217 


had 
,t  the 

She 
jh  as 
"foot- 


ilton, 
ien  at 
'f  had 
reach 

longer 
;  more 
;ime  to 

8  were 
o  hear 

eet  of 
were 

led  far, 

sound. 

began 
Ls  made 

means 
Ihe  was. 

"he'th 


gone  to  the  houthe.  Will  find  we're  not  there  ;  likely 
come  back  thith  way.  Thith  time,  when  he  th topped, 
ponieth  behaved  like  angelth — didn't  lift  a  foot ;  ithn't 
no  thort  of  uthe  hoping  they'll  act  that  way  when  he 
comth  back,  unleth  Beauty'th  got  thome  way  of  thay- 
ing  her  pwayerth  that  niakth  hortheth  keep  quiet." 

She  was  just  going  ingenuously  to  disclaim  all 
knowledge  of  prayer;  then  she  remembered  that  it 
was  better  so. 

The  dwarf  went  on  at  once.  "  When  he'th  in  a 
wage,  he'th  got  no  more  thenthe  than  an  inf  uwiated 
beatht.  Beauty  mutht  lie  thtill  when  he  comth  back, 
whatever  happenth.  Beauty  had  better  go  ath  far  atli 
the  can  now.  Doethn't  matter  what  Beauty  may  hear 
— pithtol  thot — all  the  wacket  of  earth  and  heaven 
muthtn't  make  Beauty  move.  No  dog;  can't  find 
Beauty  if  the  keepth  thtill.  Then  when  he'th  gone, 
if  there'th  no  one  to  lead  Beauty,  the  mutht  keep 
along  the  woad  to  the  wight,  find  a  houthe — nithe 
woman." 

Before  she  had  time  to  reply  he  began  clambering 
away  again.  She  heard  him  moving  at  first,  without 
any  clear  notion  that  he  was  leaving  her. 

She  felt  inclined  to  cry  out  hysterically  while  he 
was  clambering  almost  noiselessly  over  moss-covered 
logs.  That  was  why  she  did  not  answer  him  at  once 
to  say  that  she  would  do  his  bidding,  and  when  she  was 
ready  to  answer  she  perceived  that  he  had  receded  as 


218 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


quickly  as  he  had  come.  lie  was  going  back  to  liis 
post  beside  the  ponies.  Then  sonic  glimmering  of  his 
meaning  came  to  her. 

She  spoke  out  clearly — there  was  no  one  there  now 
of  whom  she  need  be  afraid. 

*' Don't  go  back  to  the  ponies.  Come  with  me 
and  hide  as  I  do ;  then,  even  if  he  finds  them,  you  will 
be  as  safe  as  I." 

She  heard  him  stop  for  a  moment  while  he  only 
said — 

"  Beauty  mutht  go  back  and  lie  thtill." 

He  bf^gan  to  move  away  again,  and  she  reflected 
that  it  was  better  for  herself  that  he  should  ;  the  ponies 
were  more  likely  to  keep  still  if  he  were  soothing 
them ;  and  then,  if  they  were  found,  Hamilton  was 
more  likely  to  be  delayed  and  set  upon  the  wrong 
path  if  he  met  the  dwarf  than  if  he  merely  found  the 
ponies  tied. 

Thinking  only  of  her  own  safety,  she,  too,  began 
to  move  as  quickly  as  she  could  further  away  from  the 
road  ;  for  some  time  she  was  entirely  occupied  in  her 
own  progress,  which  was  not  an  easy  one. 

After  some  five  minutes  she  began  to  be  afraid  to 
go  farther ;  perhaps  she  would  not  be  able  to  find  her 
way  back.  It  was  terribly  lonely  so  far  away  from  the 
dwarf.  How  did  she  know  but  that  some  pit  might 
suddenly  receive  her,  or  some  wild  animal  spring  upon 
her?     She  sat  down  upon  a  log,  leaning  against  the 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


219 


his 
:  liib 

now 

I  me 
I  will 

only 


lected 
ponies 
Dtliing 
n  was 
wrong 
id  the 

began 
)m  the 
■in  her 

•aid  to 
nd  her 

)ni  the 

1  might 

upon 

ist  the 


trunk  of  a  pine  tree,  waiting  to  hear  if  Hamilton  re- 
turned. She  could  now  just  hear,  or  fancy  she  lieard, 
the  slight  movements  of  the  ponies  a  long  way  away. 

The  full  significance  of  what  the  dwarf  had  done, 
and  her  own  selfishness  in  leaving  him,  cf  me  to  her 
now  with  that  appalling  clearness  witli  which 
thoughts  not  previously  dwelt  upon  sometimes  pre- 
sent themselves  to  the  mind  when  it  awakes  from 
sleep  in  the  night-time. 

He  had  told  her  what  she  must  do  if  there  was  no 
one  to  lead  her  after  Hamilton  had  come  and  gone 
again.  He  knew  that  he  met  Hamilton  at  the  risk  of 
his  life,  and  yet  he  had  gone  Lack  where  he  was  most 
likely  to  meet  him,  and  she  had  acquiesced. 

Her  whole  mind  became  absorbed  in  a  frantic 
desire  that  he  should  not  be  injured,  and  that  after- 
wards she  should  in  some  way  be  able  to  recom- 
pense him,  or,  if  not  that,  at  least  express  her  gratitude 
for  his  goodness.  Yes,  that  was  it.  Now  he  was  good. 
He  had  not  been  so  before,  but  now  it  was  pure  good- 
ness that  actuated  him;  and  she — she  was  horribly  / 
without  this  quality  of  real  goodness.  She  had  mocked 
goodness  by  affecting  it,  but  now,  for  a  moment,  she 
felt  desperately  what  it  was  to  need  it.  Goodness 
was  worth  everything  else  in  the  world. 

With  a  wild  feeling  that  it  would  be  better  to 
sacrifice  herself  than  lack  it  wholly,  she  rose  to  go 
back  to  the  dwarf ;  but  she  had  not  reached  out  to 


.■■vg 

-i'l 


220  THK  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 

find  tho  first  obstacle  that  she  must  surmount  before 
she  heard  a  horse  ga]h)ping  in  the  distance. 

She  crouched  weakly  in  the  darkness,  looking  and 
listening. 

It  was  so  true,  what  the  dwarf  had  said,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  suppose  that,  when  Hamilton 
stopped  again  where  the  ways  divided,  the  restless 
ponies  would  remain  still  for  a  second  time.  She  re- 
membered now  what  he  had  said  about  lier  prayers. 
She  did  not  believe  in  prayers,  not  in  the  least,  but  it 
occurred  to  her  now,  for  the  first  time,  that  perhaps 
the  reason  she  did  not  was  that  her  nature  was  barren 
of  any  real  goodness. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  she  had  in  night  and 
darkness  and  extreme  fear ;  but  her  fear  this  time 
was  for  the  dwarf  and  not  for  herself,  so  that  actually 
it  was  of  a  more  moderate  sort. 

There  was  certainly  every  reason  to  fear  for  any 
one  found  by  the  man  now  galloping  through  the 
night.  No  one  who  was  not  wholly  reckless,  lost  to 
all  sense  of  reason,  could  ride  like  that.  It  seemed 
that  his  horse  and  he  must  have  some  supernatural 
knowledge  of  the  dark  road. 

She  listened  in  an  agony  to  hear  him  check  his 
horse  at  the  entrance  to  the  wood.  Then,  in  a  few 
seconds  more,  it  seemed  strange  that  they  should  have 
assumed  that  he  would  check  it  there.  It  appeared 
that  even  he  had  no  thought  that  they  could  attempt 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


221 


3  re 

tt  it 
Iton 
tless 
e  re- 
yers. 
)ut  it 
rhaps 
arren 


the  canyon  in  the  darkness.  Believing  that  lie  had 
come  entirely  in  the  wrong  direction,  he  rude  back 
along  the  forest  road.  She  could  almost  hear  him 
breathe  as  he  rode.  It  seemed  every  moment  that 
his  horse  must  stun  itself  against  some  tree,  or  that 
the  rider  must  bo  thrown  off  by  brushing  against 
them  ;  and  yet,  down  that  long  black  aisle  he  seemed 
to  gallop  successfully,  until  the  distance  received  him 
out  of  their  range  of  hearing,  and  silence  closed  upon 
them  again. 


t  and 

^  time 

tually 

)r  any 
rh  the 
llost  to 
seemed 
natural 


ick  his 

a  few 

Id  have 

Speared 

ittempt 


15 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


Mary  began  to  clamber  back  across  the  logs  and 
between  the  trees.  Now  and  then  she  stopped  and 
listened,  thinking  that  Hamilton  might  be  riding 
back  again.  As  the  minutes  went  on  she  grew  more 
secure.  Her  heart — perhaps  a  somewhat  shallow  heart 
— was  full  of  glee  at  the  escape.  She  was  delight- 
fully young ;  the  rebouna  of  feeling  was  natural  to 
her.  "When  she  had  gone  some  way  she  called 
aloud — 

"  Oh !  are  you  there  ?  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  he  did 
not  stop.     I  was  afraid  he  would  hurt  you." 

She  had  to  go  much  further,  and  call  out  the 
words  again,  before  they  were  heard. 

The  dwarf  was  busy  with  the  ponies.  When  she 
did  at  length  cause  him  to  speak  to  her,  he  explained 
that  he  had  led  them  some  way  from  the  road,  and 
could  not  now  find  smooth  ground  by  which  to  get 
them  back  again.  They  were  restive.  She  heard 
them  jumping  about.  She  was  afraid  they  would 
trample  upon  him. 


THE  MADONNA   OF  A  DAY. 


223 


r&  and 
d  and 
riding 
r  more 
V  heart 
leliglit- 
ural  to 
called 

he  did 

)ut  the 

hen  she 
[plained 
)ad,  and 
to  get 
heard 
would 


The  dwarf  did  not  seem  to  share  her  glee  of  re- 
lief; but  she  judged  that  he  was  excited,  because, 
when  he  did  get  back  to  the  road,  he  was  more  talka- 
tive, and  told  her  it  was  a  very  good  thing  that  Ham- 
ilton had  got  to  the  house,  where  they  must  spend  the 
night,  before  they  did ;  for  now,  as  he  believed  they 
were  not  there,  it  was  likely  they  could  pass  the  night 
unmolested. 

He  then  advised  her  to  walk  on,  feeling  for  the 
road  as  well  as  she  could,  while  he  followed,  leading 
the  ponies ;  for  now  that  there  were  no  trees  on  either 
side,  the  ponies  might  get  off  the  path  at  any  time, 
and  stumble  badly.  She  wanted  to  walk  near  him ; 
but  he  insisted  on  her  keeping  ahead,  only  within 
calling  distance,  for  he  wished  to  direct  her  to  the 
road. 

The  trees  were  no  longer  above  them,  and  the 
misty  atmosphere  was  less  dark.  She  felt  her  way 
with  her  feet,  sometimes  with  her  hands,  against  leaf- 
less shrubs  which  grew  by  the  roadside.  Everything 
that  she  touched  was  dripping  with  mist;  her  gar- 
ments were  damp  and  heavy,  but  the  air  was  mild. 

When  they  had  made  certain  that  they  had  passed 
the  dividing  of  the  roads  and  got  upon  the  right 
track,  which  lay  up-hill  and  away  from  the  river, 
there  was  nothing  more  to  interest  or  disturb  their 
thoughts — nothing  to  do  but  to  keep  on  a  long  weary 
mile  or  more,  until  they  came  to  their  destination. 


224 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Every  now  and  then  tlie  dwarf  called  to  her,  "  Are 
you  there  ?  Are  you  getting  on  ? "  And  she  would 
answer.  This  became  so  wearisome  that  it  occurred 
to  her  to  sing.  It  might  beguile  his  way,  and  would 
keep  him  aware  of  her  whereabouts. 

She  turned  and  called  out,  "  I  will  sing  as  I  go, 
and  then  you  will  know  I  am  safe." 

It  seemed,  as  she  spoke  impulsively,  that  it  would 
be  quite  easy  to  find  a  song  to  sing,  but  the  next  mo- 
ment, when  she  felt  it  would  be  absurd  not  to  begin 
at  once,  no  songs  came  to  her,  except  those  the  words 
of  which  were  ardent  love  ditties  or  flimsy  lyrics  of 
sentiment.  Then  she  attempted  the  first  that  came 
to  her  that  was  not  wholly  objectionable,  but  her 
voice  was  too  weak. 

"Plow  stupid!"  she  cried.  "I  forp^ot  my  throat 
had  been  bad." 

She  found  that  she  need  not  have  called  aloud. 
In  his  eagerness  to  hear  the  song  he  had  pressed  on 
silently,  and  was  close  beside  her. 

His  resigned  word  of  acquiescence  told  her  of  a 
disappointment  deeper  than  she  could  have  expected. 
She  could  remember  many  a  time  when  she  had  re- 
sented a  slight  upon  her  music,  but  this  eagerness  for 
it  humbled  her. 

When  they  got  up  to  the  house  she  could  not  see 
its  size ;  the  dwarf  and  the  ponies  had  come  quite 
close  to  her  before  she  found  the  door ;  then,  as  she 


/ 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


225 


)uld 
rred 
ould 

L  go, 

rould 
i  mo- 
begin 
words 

rics  of 

came 

Lit  lier 

throat 

aloud, 
^scd  on 

jr  of  a 
Ipected. 
had  re- 

less  for 

not  see 

[e  quite 

as  slie 


knocked,  she  saw  a  light  inside,  and  heard  a  man 
speaking — it  was  evident  their  approach  had  been 
heard. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  cried  a  gruff  voice. 

"  Anthwer,"  whispered  the  dwarf. 

She  Kfted  her  soft  w^oman's  voice,  and  said — 

"  It  is  I — a  woman  who  wants  shelter." 

There  was  more  than  one  exclamation  inside  the 
house.  Then  the  door  w^as  thrown  open,  and  a  big 
man  holding  a  lamp  was  revealed.  He  was  a  healthy 
burly  fellow  ;  a  white  shirt  bulged  loosely  above  his 
trousers.  Near  him  stood  a  woman  in  nightgown 
and  shawl.  Behind  the  safe  protection  of  his  huge 
arm,  her  kindly  face  looked  over  with  great  curiosity. 
It  »vas  to  her  that  Mary  looked. 

^'  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  a  woman ! "  she  said. 
"  I  fell  from  the  train ;  and  I  have  been  so  fright- 
ened and  so  miserable,  until  this  kind  gentleman 
took  pity  upon  me  and  brought  me  here." 

She  made  a  gesture  towards  the  dwarf.  He  was 
standing  between  the  heads  of  the  ponies  directly  in 
front  of  the  door.  The  light  fell  upon  him.  His 
white  thin  face,  under  the  brim  of  his  slouched  hat, 
wore  a  look  of  impenetrable  gravity ;  but  there  was 
more  than  that — there  was  an  elevation  in  the  expres- 
sion of  his  features,  a  look  as  of  some  exultant  happi- 
ness, that  did  not  obliterate  but  triumphed  over  his 
sadness. 


226 


THE  xMA  DONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


"  It'th  all  wight,  Johnthon,''  said  the  dwarf. 
''  Every  word  the  lady  thayth  about  herthelf  ith 
twue." 

The  householder  had  surveyed  Mary  with  a  com- 
prehensive glance,  and  let  her  pass  the  barrier  of 
his  arm.     He  spoke  sharply — 

"  I'll  take  the  lady's  word  for  it,  but  not  yours. 
It's  a  pretty  smart  thing  of  you  to  think  that  your 
word  will  back  her  up." 

He  was,  it  seemed,  a  worthy  honest  man,  but 
dull.  His  wife  showed  far  more  quickness  and 
curiosity.  She  twitched  his  arm,  taking  almost  no 
notice  of  Mary  for  the  moment — 

"  But  ask  him  what  it  meant.  Old  Harry  coming, 
and  then  him  and  the  girl." 

The  dwarf  had  not  flinched  at  the  rebuff.  He 
still  stood,  his  face  and  the  faces  of  the  two  ponies 
clear  in  the  lamplight  against  the  background  of  the 
night. 

"  Wight  you  are,  Johnthon,"  he  replied.  "  Hard 
lineth  if  the  lady  needed  me  to  thpeak  for  her." 

There  was  satirical  emphasis  upon  the  "me," 
and  yet  the  words  were  more  sad  than  cynical ;  and 
behind  the  sadness  there  was  still  the  evidence  of 
that  strange  exultation. 

Mary  broke  in,  speaking  fast.  "  But  he  has  been 
very  good  to  me.  He  has  saved  me  from  that 
awful   man  they  call    *  Old    Farry,'   and   from   all 


f 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


227 


^arf. 
ith 

eom- 
>r  of 

ours, 
your 

I,  but 
3  and 
)st  no 

)niing, 

:.     He 

Iponies 
of  the 

Hard 

I"  me," 
h;  and 
Ince  of 

18  been 

that 

lorn   all 


those  other  men  at  the  digging.  They  were  good 
enough  to  me  for  three  days,  because  I  was  very 
ill ;  and  to-day,  when  I  began  to  get  well,  this  kind 
gentleman  got  me  away  when  they  were  not  look' 
ing,  and  we  have  been  hiding  in  the  wood  while  that 
dreadful  man  passed.  Please  let  us  both  in  for  the 
night ;  I  know  that  this  gentleman  will  take  me  to 
the  railway  station  to-morrow." 

"  First  good  I  ever  heard  of  him,"  growled  the 
householder.  "I  think  he'd  better  be  off  to  his 
own  place.  I  don't  want  neither  him  nor  his 
ponies  here."     He  still  stood  staring  at  Handsome. 

His  wife,  a  middle-aged  woman,  was  still  peer- 
ing through  the  doorway  with  a  face  full  of  interest. 
She  put  her  hand  upon  Mary's  arm  as  she  would 
have  put  it  on  a  child's  shoulder,  as  much  as  to 
say  she  should  be  attended  to  when  her  time  came. 

"What  do  you  want?'*  she  asked  of  the  dwarf 
shrewdly.  "  If  you've  saved  the  lady,  then  that's 
so  much  to  the  good  laid  up  for  you.  We'll  look 
after  her,  and  some  one  from  here  can  take  her  to 
the  station." 

It  seemed  a  new  idea  to  the  dwarf.  His  face 
changed  as  he  comprehended  it.  He  looked  at  Mary, 
and  trouble  came  to  the  surface  upon  his  face ;  but 
he  said — 

"  Yeth ;  it  might  be  better." 

The  words  were  so  few  and  sad,  that,  for  her 


228  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

own  sake  as  well  as  for  his,  Mary's  heart  rebelled 
against  them.  Her  vanity  caused  lier  perhaps  to 
exaggerate  the  pleasure  it  would  be  to  him  to  escort 
her  to  the  end.  Her  vanity  also  made  his  silent 
worship  agreeable  to  her,  even  though  in  some  moods 
of  her  complex  heart  she  was  humbled  by  it.  She 
felt  at  the  moment  a  romantic  pride  in  insisting  upon 
her  trust  in  him.  If  her  kindness  arose  from  min- 
gled motives,  she  intended  to  be,  and  was,  purely 
kind  in  her  interference  on  his  behalf ;  and  yet,  in 
the  days  after  that,  she  used  often  to  wake  in  the 
night  and  wring  her  hands  with  longing,  and  say  to 
herself,  "  Ah,  if  I  had  only  let  him  go  then !  if  I  had 
only  let  him  go  ! " 

For  he  would  then  have  gone  quietly  away — she 
did  not  know  where,  for  he  could  not  have  returned 
within  reach  of  Hamilton ;  but  he  would  have  gone 
away  qi  jtly  into  the  night,  he  and  his  ponies,  and  he 
would  never  have  tried  to  see  her  again. 

She  did  not  let  him  go.  She  spoke  vehemently  to 
the  good  man  of  the  house  and  to  his  wife,  saying  that 
her  friend  would  be  in  danger  of  his  life  if  he  re- 
turned to  the  digging,  that  he  had  already  risked  it  for 
her,  that  she  would  have  perfect  confidence  in  his 
escort  the  next  day.  The  dwarf's  face  became  happier 
as  she  spoke. 

After  a  while  the  man  went  out  and  established 
the  dwarf  and  the  ponies  somewhere  upon  his  prem- 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


229 


mm- 


^ — slie 
turned 
e  gone 
and  he 

ntly  to 
ig  that 
he  re- 
Id  it  for 
m  his 
lappier 

Ihhshed 
prem- 


ises, returning  quickly.  The  woman,  a  strong  ener- 
getic kindly  person,  gave  Mary  such  food  and  drink  as 
she  thought  suitable,  and  then  hurried  her  into  an- 
other room  to  go  to  bed. 

It  was  true  that  she  was  anxious  to  put  Mary  to 
bed,  but  she  was  also  anxious  to  talk  with  her  apart 
from  the  big  reticent  man  who  apparently  regarded 
talk  as  foolish.  She  had  a  great  deal  to  say — she 
lived  a  solitary  life ;  excitement,  and  a  woman  to  talk 
to,  produced  in  her  much  conversation — but  she  was 
too  strong  a  character  to  be  diffuse. 

When  the  girl  had  told  the  simple  outline  of  what 
had  befallen  her,  the  woman's  curiosity  w^as  satisfied, 
and  there  was  true  refinement  in  the  reticence  of  her 
comments ;  but  she  had  a  long  story  to  tell  in  return, 
of  the  bad  reputation  which  the  men  in  the  notch  bore 
— a  reputation  for  cruelty,  for  reckless  dishonesty,  and 
other  evil  dispositions.  It  was  curious  to  Mary  to 
observe  how  one  of  this  woman's  strongest  sentiments 
was  that  of  mortified  patriotism  that  the  young  Eng- 
lishwoman should  have  fallen  in  with  the  worst,  and 
not  the  best,  folk  of  the  region.  She  had  not  lived,  it 
seemed,  more  than  ten  years  in  that  place  herself,  but 
she  was  touchy  as  to  its  reputation  for  civility.  She 
was  also  strongly  indignant  against  the  men  of  the 
notch,  not  more  on  Mary's  account  than  because  this 
last  bit  of  their  ill  manners  was  of  a  piece  with  their 
former  history.     The  principal  incident  of  this  history 


230  THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 

was  connected  with  a  couple  of  Irishmen  who,  until 
the  previous  autumn,  had  worked  a  claim  in  the  notch. 
The  two  men  had  been  killed ;  there  was  not  a  doubt 
in  the  neighbourhood  that  they  had  been  murdered, 
that  some  of  the  men  at  the  notch  were  guilty,  and 
that  Hamilton,  knowing  their  guilt,  had  absolute  sway 
over  them  on  that  account.  As  it  was,  the  Govern- 
ment, not  being  able  to  obtain  any  direct  evidence, 
had  comrjounded  the  matter  by  demanding  that  the 
price  of  the  Irishmen's  claim  should  be  paid  over  to 
their  families  in  the  spring.  * 

"  Oh,  and  Old  Harry,"  said  the  woman,  "he'd  have 
got  the  money  out  of  you,  my  dear,  if  he  could ;  and 
if  not,  he'll  wring  it  out  of  some  one  else ;  for  it's 
power  he  wants — to  have  those  men,  soul  and  body, 
under  him — that's  what  he  wants.  They  say  it's  a 
demon  that's  got  into  him,  and  when  the  mood's  on 
him  there's  nothing  that  he'll  stop  at.  It's  as  well  you 
got  off  as  you  did,  and  are  not  lying  cold  in  your 
grave,  or  worse.  And  the  little  man  got  you  off! 
Well,  they  do  say  that  since  he  came  here  he's  been 
the  imp  to  put  Hamilton  up  to  the  worst  mischief,  but 
it  seems  there's  civility  in  him.     Well " 

While  she  talked  she  had  hastily  taken  a  child  out 
of  a  small  bed.  Carrying  it  into  her  own  room,  she 
spread  clean  linen  of  the  coarsest  upon  the  bed,  and 
rapidly  enveloped  the  weary  girl  in  a  night-dress, 
coarse,  but  dry  and  warm  and  spotlessly  clean.     With 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A    DAY. 


231 


until 

otch. 

loubt 

ered, 

,  and 

sway 

>vern- 

ience, 

it  the 

v^er  to 

dhave 
I;  and 
:or  it's 
[  body, 
r  it's  a 
)d's  on 
ell  you 
n  your 
)u  ofEl 
's  been  < 
lef ,  but 

lild  out 

^m,  slie 

id,  and 

-dress, 

With 


a  single  movement  of  her  hand  she  gathered  all  the 
damp  clothes  and  took  them  to  the  kitchen.  All  the 
time  she  was  talking. 

It  struck  Mary  as  curious  that  her  own  adventures, 
which  had  appeared  to  her  so  wonderful  as  to  be  al- 
most unique  in  the  world's  history,  did  not  impress 
this  woman  as  more  than  one  of  the  disagreeable  inci- 
dents of  life  to  be  forgotten  as  soon  as  possible. 
Whether  this  was  the  want  of  imagination  and  dramat- 
ic sense,  or  whether  adventure  was  the  commonplace 
of  this  region,  she  could  not  tell.  The  room  was 
small,  the  furniture  scant  and  poor ;  yet  she  felt  that 
she  had  never  before  known  luxury.  She  felt  also 
that  she  loved  this  woman ;  but  against  the  prosaic 
treatment  which  her  story  received  she  made  some 
faint  rebellion. 

"  But,  you  know,  those  men  did  trefit  me  well," 
she  remonstrated.  "  You  say  that  they  are  so  very, 
very  wicked ;  but  think  of  all  they  did  for  me ! 
Even  in  Hamilton  there  must  have  been  a  mixture  of 
good  and  bad,  and  the  one  that  I  thought  was  the 
worst  of  them  all  has  brought  me  here." 

The  woman  answered  as  all  such  good  woman  do, 
convinced  that  her  opinion  was  knowledge,  and  that 
there  was  no  other  knowledge. 

"  There's  not  much  mixture  in  them.  There  may 
be  a  trace  o'  grace  in  this  poor  hump-backed  chap — 
not  in  the  others.     The  hands  of  half  of  them  are  red 


232 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


with  murder;  and  the  others  are  mixed  up  in  it. 
They  were  afraid  to  get  themselves  into  more  of  a 
mess  with  the  Government— that's  what  the  sign 
o'  grace  in  them  was ;  but  there  is  not  another  house 
between  here  and  Vancouver  where  they'd  not  have 
treated  you  like  a  lady."  This  had  been  the  refrain 
of  all  she  said. 

Moved  by  one  of  her  generous  impulses,  the  girl 
put  up  her  arm,  and  drew  down  the  homely  face,  and 
kissed  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Even  while  Mary  slept  her  heart  was  troubled  by 
dreams  of  Hamilton's  mad  pursuit.  When  she  awoke 
she  was  still  possessed  by  the  fear,  to  which  reason 
now  added  the  knowledge  that,  if  he  should  come 
again  and  find  her  in  this  house,  his  enmity  would 
be  aroused  against  its  inmates.  She  was  not  slow  to 
remember,  either,  that  it  would  be  well  for  the  dwarf 
to  get  within  the  protection  of  a  larger  settlement. 

Although  hospitable  offers  were  made  to  her,  all 
things  considered,  it  was  admitted  that  it  was  well 
she  should  start  again  early  upon  her  journey. 

The  road  which  she  had  to  go,  including  the  way 
back  to  the  main  track,  was  little  more  than  four 
miles. 

An  hour  after  the  late  day-break,  upon  the  last 
day  of  the  old  year,  the  girl  and  the  dwarf  started  to 
go  through  the  narrow  canyon,  the  farmer  and  one  of 
his  sons  accompanying  them  to  the  main  track,  offer- 
ing to  set  a  watch  there  in  order  that  no  pursuer 
might  enter  the  pass  while  they  were  going  through, 

233 


234 


TIIK  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


A  light  mist  yd  filled  the  air,  which  was  very 
still.  It  was  not  now  dense  :  the  foreground  could 
be  discerned ;  the  nearer  hills  looked  like  dark 
shadows. 

At  lirst  the  girl,  whose  vitality  was  revived  by 
sleep,  experienced  a  deep  disappointment ;  the 
thought  of  the  wonderful  panorama  of  mountains 
which  she  had  expected  to  see  filled  her  with  restless 
discontent  with  the  obscurity,  but  as  she  advanced  a 
little  way,  and  found  all  the  scene,  as  it  were,  com- 
pressed between  narrow  walls,  she  discovered  that 
nature  had  its  own  beauty  in  the  fallen  cloud  as  well 
as  in  clearer  air.  The  boiling  of  the  river  below  them 
was  just  seen,  half-veiled  in  vapour.  The  rocks  with 
their  lichens  and  mosses,  some  sere,  some  green, 
which  rose  from  the  river  to  the  road  and  above  the 
road  on  its  other  side,  showed  the  liveliest  colours 
they  could  display  against  the  soft  whiteness  of  the 
air,  which  was  seen  to  kiss  them.  The  towering  hill- 
side was  just  visible  above,  magnified  somewhat  per- 
haps— an  awful  steep,  its  pines  rooted  in  the  rock, 
their  branches,  rich  and  green,  draped  in  the  soft  lace 
of  mist  that  pressed  upon  them  above  and  below. 

The  railway  ran  upon  the  other  side  of  the  river  ; 
upon  each  side  there  was  just  room  for  one  road.  She 
remembered  now  that  last  night  was  the  first  night  she 
had  slf3pt  so  soundly  that  she  had  not  heard  the  echoing 
rush  of  the  train  between  these  walls  of  rock.    To-night 


THE   MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


235 


she  expected  to  be  travelling  with  it.  Her  heart  gave 
a  bound  at  the  thought,  and  tlien  again  she  felt  sorry  ; 
for  even  in  this  place  of  miserable  adventure,  she 
would  be  leaving  something  behind  which  she  re- 
gretted. What  was  it  ?  Something  of  her  own  soul, 
perhaps,  which  she  had  read  into  the  glittering  moun- 
tain-peaks ;  but  she  thought  that  that  which  she  was 
loth  to  leave  was  in  them  by  their  own  virtue,  not  by 
hers.  And  then  there  was  something  which  she  re- 
gretted more  than  their  transcendent  beauty.  It  was 
the  dwarf  she  thought  of  with  this  lingering  wistful- 
ness.  Something  which  she  herself  had  evoked  out 
of  this  wretched  life  made  her  feel  that  he  was 
worthy  of  greater  regard  than  she  could  bestow  upon 
him.     Yet  she  felt  gratitude. 

She  was  walking  in  front,  as  upon  the  night  be- 
fore ;  the  dwarf  walked  behind,  leading  both  ponies. 
Iler  horsemanship  was  not  equal  to  riding  upon  such 
a  road  without  the  compulsion  of  necessity.  There 
was  no  barrier  to  the  downward  slope,  and  the  road 
was  in  many  places  broken  and  loosened  by  the  last 
heavy  fall  of  snow.  As  she  could  not  ride,  the  dwarf 
could  not.  He  made  her  walk  some  way  in  advance ; 
he  made  her  walk  rapidly  for  fear  of  pursuit.  All 
the  way  she  knew  that  his  own  progress  was  very 
toilsome  to  him.  She  began  to  think  what  she  could 
do  to  recompense  his  goodness.  She  had  a  generous 
heart ;  a  gust  of  gratitude  now  outweighed  the  lust 


236  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

of  possession  ;  and,  in  the  impulse  of  the  fresh  morn- 
ing, she  decided  to  give  her  diamond  to  him.  The 
only  other  thing  she  had  to  offer  was  money,  and  she 
felt  that  there  would  be  something  unkind  and  un- 
poetical  in  offering  him  that. 

Yes,  she  would  give  him  her  diamond  ring  !  Her 
bosom  swelled  with  the  thought  of  her  own  gen- 
erosity. She  seemed  quite  reconciled  to  herself 
again,  thinking  that  she  was  not  such  a  poor  speci- 
men after  all,  and,  for  the  time  the  burden  of  grati- 
tude to  him  rolled  from  her  spirit  as  h'ghtly  as  a 
morning  mist  before  the  wind. 

The  physical  mist  was  indeed  beginning  to  lift 
now ;  a  slight  air  began  to  blow  in  their  faces ;  the 
curtains  of  vapour  above  them  began  to  shift.  The 
air  around  them  lightened,  and  then  again  it  grew 
denser,  as  if  a  heavier  fold  of  mist  from  the  west- 
ward had  been  rolled  upon  them.  So  thick  it  grew 
for  a  few  minutes  that  the  dwarf  called  to  her 
to  stop. 

She  leaned  her  back  against  the  upright  rock. 
Just  above  her,  in  a  niche,  sere  grasses  and  ferns 
stretched  themselves  out  from  a  tuft  of  moss,  like  a 
canopy  of  feathers.  The  morning  had  been  so  mild 
tliat,  finding  the  veil  upon  her  head  irksome,  she  let 
it  drop  upon  her  neck  ;  it  lay  huddle  ap  on  her 
shoulders  like  a  peasant  woman's  shawl.  Her  petti- 
coat was  short ;  her  little  feet  were  encased  in  heavy 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


237 


norn- 

The 

id  she 

id  un- 

\  Her 
1  gen- 
herself 
•  speci- 
f  grati- 
iy  as  a 

to  lift 
jes;  the 
^t.  The 
it  grew 
\G  west- 
it  grew 
to  her 

it  rock, 
id  ferns 
^s,  like  a 

so  mild 
[,  she  let 

on  her 
ter  petti- 
In  heavy 


child's  boots,  bestowed  upon  her  by  the  good  woman 
who  had  sheltered  her  the  night  before.  She  was  so 
full  of  her  interesting  determination  to  give  the  ring 
to  the  dwarf  that  she  was  not  thinking  at  all  about 
herself  or  about  her  own  appearance  ;  but  he  saw  it 
all — saw  the  soft  full  curves  of  her  throat  and  dim- 
pled face,  rising  white  above  the  azure  fold,  and  the 
smoke-like  cap  of  curly  hair.  He  came  up  and  stood 
within  a  few  feet  of  her,  holding  the  ponies. 

"  I'm  sure  you  must  be  exceedingly  tired  holding 
those  creatures.  Do  you  think  it  will  soon  be  safe 
for  us  to  ride  ? "  •  . 

"  Not  thafe  for  Beauty  to  wide  till  we  get  out  of 
the  cutting."  He  stood  meditatively  looking  down 
at  the  river,  as  if  interested  in  its  boiling. 

For  a  moment  she  marvelled  to  observe  how  per- 
fectly at  ease  she  was  with  him.  She  had  learned  to 
trust  the  new  man  within  him  as  comp^tely  as  she 
would  have  trusted  some  old  household  ^vant ;  yet 
even  now  she  reflected  how  at  first  the  native  vul- 
garity  of  this  man  had  made  him  appear".*  an  even 
more  revolting  and  dangerous  enemy  than  Hamilton. 
The  powerful  impulse  which  had  lifted  him  out  of 
wickedness  had,  as  it  seemed,  raised  him  into  abso- 
lute refinement.  It  made  her  almost  mentally  dizzy 
to  know  that  the  cause  was  the  charm  of  her  own 
supposed  saintliness.     She  dared  not  dwell  upon  this, 

but  took  refuge  in  the  pleasure  of  her  real  generosity. 
16 


238 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Full  of  her  project  concerning  the  ring,  she  thought 
she  wolM  pave  the  way  towards  it. 

"  I  am  so  very  grateful  for  all  you  have  done,  I 
wish  I  could  do  something  for  you  in  return." 

His  answer  embodied  a  very  old-fashioned  notion 
of  chivalry. 

"Beauty  doth  not  need  to  do  anything.  Beauty 
thmilth — that  itli  enough." 

.  She  tossed  her  head  impatiently.  She  was  going 
to  explain,  in  piquant  language,  that  that  idea  was 
obsolete,  that  it  degraded  woman.  She  did  not,  how- 
ever, make  the  explanation.  She  looked  at  his  face, 
at  the  sad  strong  lines  of  his  thin  features,  at  his 
meditative  glance  upon  the  water.  She  realized  that 
she  was  not  going  to  be  with  him  long  enough  to 
educate  him  into  new  opinions,  and  that  she  need  not 
distress  him  by  disagreeing  now.  Then,  too,  there 
was  the  constraining  power  of  the  habit  which  she 
had  fallen  into  of  appearing  more  reticent,  more  dig- 
nified than  by  nature  and  training  she  really  was. 

"  You  see,"  she  began,  "  I  am  afraid  I  have  got 
you  into  a  quarrel  with  all  your  friends " 

"  In  a  vewy  little  while  Beauty  will  be  at  the  tha- 
tion ;  can  telegwaph  to  her  own  fwiendth  ;  can  go  to 
them." 

"  Yes,  but "  she  began.     The  thickness  of  the 

mist  suddenly  shifted ;  the  air  was  almost  clear  around 
them ;  they  saw  volumes  of  cloud  passing  above,  like 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


239 


lone,  I 

notion 

Beauty 

IS  going 
dea  was 
lot,  how- 
liis  face, 
3S,  at  bis 
lized  tliat 
inougb  to 

need  not 
;oo,  there 

rhicb  she 
[more  dig- 
was, 
have  got 

[i  the  tha- 
can  go  to 

less  of  the 
jar  around 
tbove,  lite 


a  canopy,  through  the  canyon.  "  How  splendid !  " 
she  cried  involuntarily.  For  the  torrent  of  the  white 
foaming  water  was  revealed  beneath ;  and  the  rocks 
of  the  opposite  sides,  with  all  the  ferns  and  roots  and 
shrubs,  sered  into  yellows  or  dull  pinks,  or  living  and 
green,  were  bright  in  colour  by  reason  of  the  moist- 
ure ;  and,  above,  there  was  a  golden  glow  in  the  low 
rolling  cloud,  as  if  indeed  they  two  stood  in  the  very 
gates  of  the  sunrise  itself  within  those  tinted  clouds 
that  commonly  lie  at  immeasurable  distance. 

"  It  will  be  ath  well  if  Beauty  will  move  on,"  said 
the  dwarf. 

She  knew  now  that  she  could  not  talk  to  him 
about  his  own  sorrows  or  heroism,  that  he  would  not 
meet  her  on  any  equal  grounds  of  experience  or  out- 
look ;  but  in  the  pleasurable  impulse  of  her  own  good 
nature,  she  was  incapable  of  pursuing  her  road  si- 
lently. 

"  You  must  be  so  awfully  tired,  leading  both  those 
ponies.     Let  me  try  to  lead  one ;  I'm  sure  I  could." 

The  dwarf  smiled  the  first  smile  she  had  seen 
upon  his  face,  and  it  reminded  her  of  that  concealed 
sunbeam  within  the  cloud,  so  tender  it  was  towards 
her,  so  selfless  and  so  enfolded  in  the  man's  large 
gravity  which  she  did  not  see  through  or  compre- 
hend. 

All  he  said  was,  "  Beauty  could  not  lead  a  pony ; 
pony  would  danthe,  and  Beauty  would  fall  over  the 


240  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

wocktli.  Will  Beauty  go  on  atli  fatht  atli  conwen- 
ient?" 

She  began  to  go  on  then.  She  walked  backwards 
a  few  paces :  her  good-nature  towards  him  was  quite 
overflowing.  ' 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Beauty  mutht  go  on,"  said  the  dwarf,  "but  per- 
hapth  Beauty  will  be  kind  enough  to  thing." 

As  the  last  word,  timid  and  hesitating,  caught  her 
ear,  she  knew  it  was  spoken  with  eagerness.  She  did 
not  hesitate  to  try  her  voice  again.  In  the  elation  of 
her  kindliness,  she  thought  only  of  what  she  could 
sing  well,  wishing  to  give  him  the  utmost  pleasure. 
She  remembered  an  old  Norwegian  song,  which  a 
friend  had  roughly  translated  for  her,  and  which, 
perhaps  because  its  words  had  fallen  in  with  an  epi- 
sode in  her  own  life,  she  knew  well.  As  she  went, 
she  sang  it  to  its  own  native  music.  Some  loud, 
monotonous  sound  often  gives  additional  strength  to 
the  human  voice,  as  it  also  appears  to  do  to  voices  of 
birds.  This  time  her  voice  answered  to  her  will ; 
long  hours  in  the  mild  air  had  wrought  healing,  as 
nothing  else  would  have  done.  Over  the  roaring  of 
the  river  her  clear  young  voice  rang  out — 

**It  matters  nothing  to  you  and  me, 
Oh,  friend,  my  lover  across  the  sea, 
Whether  we  marry, 
Or  whether  we  carry 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY.  241 

Our  lovie  unspoken 

By  sign  or  token 

Into  the  distance  heavenly. 

**It  matters  much,  my  friend,  that  we  love 
With  strength  that  will  lift  us  far  above 
The  selfish  measure 
Of  pain  and  pleasure, 
The  transient  sorrow 
Of  tears  to-morrow  ; 
It  matters  much  that  we  love. 

*'It  matters  much  that  we  live,  my  friend, 
Life  that  love  shapes  to  noblest  end. 
For  love  is  given 
A  boon  from  heaven, 
A  burning  passion, 
The  heart  to  fashion 
For  nobler  uses  to  foe  and  friend. 

**  It  matters  much  that  we  hope,  dear  heart; 
Thinkest  thou  love  hath  joined  to  part  ? 
Love's  tie  is  longer 
Than  earth's,  and  stronger. 
Here  or  hereafter 
We  meet  with  laughter. 
Hope  on  for  ever,  hope  on,  dear  heart." 

She  had  quite  lost  herself  in  the  song ;  she  had 
thought  before  that  she  could  sing  it  well,  but  here,  in 
this  misty  morning  among  the  mountains,  with  the 
suffering  of  the  last  days  behind  her,  a  new  strength 
of  meaning  seemed  to  come  back  to  her  through  the 
words,  and  she  threw  it  into  the  music  of  her  voice. 
She  was  walking  on,  bareheaded,  against  the  rising 
breeze,  not  thinking  clearly  of  anything  at  all,  but 


Illl 


I 


I 


I 


242  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

carried  away  by  tlie  music  and  the  romance  of  lier 
deliverance,  her  mind  was  full  of  happy,  half  solemn 
thoughts  and  feelings,  that  for  the  time  underwent  no 
process,  but  lay  still,  illumining  human  life  for  her. 

A  sound  of  one  of  the  ponies  dancing  and  shaking 
his  bridle  recalled  her.  "  Mercy  me  ! "  she  thou^iit  to 
herself,  "  I  almost  forgot  I  was  singing  to  him."  She 
was  conscious  that  she  had  put  much  expression  into 
lier  voice.  "  Mercy  me !  "  she  said  again,  "  what  if  he 
fancies  I  had  the  slightest  thought  of  him  as  I  sang  ? " 

It  was  a  moment  before  she  had  courage  to  look 
around.  When  she  did,  she  perceived  no  such  thought 
had  entered  Handsome's  mind,  yet  she  was  elated  to 
see  that  her  song  had  stirred  him.  There  was  a  glow 
upon  his  face,  a  return  of  that  exultant  light  which 
she  had  seen  the  evening  before,  which  did  not  take 
the  place  of  trouble,  but  shone  through  it,  as  if,  al- 
though he  knew  that  the  joys  of  life  were  never  for 
him,  yet  he  had  begun  to  realize  that  there  was  an 
inner  perfection  in  which  he  could  participate  with 
the  noblest. 

She  turned  again,  and  went  on  without  speaking, 
elated,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  subdued. 

And  now  the  mist,  which  was  being  rolled  gently 
eastward,  was  wholly  gone  from  their  path.  Coming 
out  of  the  mouth  of  the  canyon,  they  could  look  down 
a  valley  which,  from  this  point,  spread  out  like  a  fan 
on  either  side,  and  sloped  to  wind-swept  distance  in 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


243 


of  lier 
solemn 
vent  BO 
[or  lier. 
shaking 
)iight  to 
1."    She 
don  into 
hat  if  he 
[  sang  ? " 
;  to  look 
L  thought 
elated  to 
as  a  glow 
tit  which 
not  take 
as  if,  ah 
lever  for 
•e  was  an 
3ate  with 


speaking, 


ed  gently 
Coming 
ook  down 
like  a  fan 
istance  in 


which  grey  peaks  again  arose.  Immediately  in  front  of 
tliem  their  road,  joining  with  another,  crossed  a  bridge, 
and  led  on  for  a  mile  or  so  to  a  village  of  wooden 
houses  which  was  clear  in  sight.  The  river,  freed 
from  its  rock  walls,  ran  joyously  down  the  vallej^, 
widening  and  calming  as  it  went.  Behind  them  were 
green  wooded  mountains,  rising  from  either  side  of  the 
canyon ;  behind  and  above  that  again,  the  great  white 
mist  which  was  rolling  eastward,  with  the  sunshine  en- 
tangled somewhere  in  its  folds. 

They  were  to  mount  their  ponies  here  to  ride 
through  the  village,  and  the  girl  bethought  her  that, 
when  they  reached  the  village,  it  might  not  be  easy 
again  to  have  a  quiet  word  with  the  dwarf.  He  was 
known  in  the  village  ;  he  had  his  own  reputation  to 
preserve  perhaps,  and  she  had  hers.  While  he  was 
arranging  her  saddle,  she  put  her  hand  into  her  breast, 
and  brought  out  the  diamond. 

He  raised  his  head  from  tightening  the  girth  of 
her  saddle.  As  she  stood  holding  the  bridle,  she  was 
wrapping  her  blue  drapery  the  tighter  around  her, 
to  prepare  for  the  ride.  Then  she  held  the  ring  out 
to  him,  and  smiled. 

"  I  would  like  you  to  take  this,"  she  said,  "  and 
use  it   as   you   like;   you  have  been   very  good  to 


me. 


5> 


As  she   spoke  a  sunbeam  came  from  the  mist, 
shifting  from  the  eastern  side  of  the  zenith  ;  the  sun- 


Ill 

ill 


I     III 


244  THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 

beam  fell  upon  the  little  curly  rings  of  her  hair,  and 
upon  the  diamond. 

The  dwarf's  face  had  been  red  with  the  exertion 
of  tightening  the  strap  ;  now  it  went  white.  She  saw 
his  eye  caught  by  the  flash  of  the  stone ;  she  saw 
that  he  estimated  its  worth  ;  she  saw,  too,  that  for  a 
moment  he  desired  it  with  a  wholly  different  sort 
of  desire  from  that  which  the  lofty  sentiments  she 
had  expressed  had  evoked ;  indeed,  she  perceived 
anew  what  the  rjegradation  of  the  man's  life  had 
been,  because  the  value  of  tlie  diamond  for  a  mo- 
ment evidently  transported  him  out  of  all  the 
region  of  good  endeavour  and  beautiful  thought. 

Then  the  dwarf  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  stone 
to  her  face.  She  had  once  seen  a  look  like  that — 
just  once.  It  was  in  an  old  church  in  France,  where 
she  had  happened  to  observe  a  dying  man  kneeling 
before  a  shrine.  It  was  a  look  that  meant  that  the 
eyes  sought  some  vision  by  which  the  soul  that  was 
in  them  might  be  steadied  and  fixed  in  the  faith  it 
needed  for  salvation. 

"  Beauty  mutht  put  away  her  wing." 

It  was  the  familiar  half-childlike  phrasing  that 
brought  her  back  from  a  moment  in  which  it  seemed 
to  her  that  her  soul  within  her  had  fainted,  for 
although  she  had  not  moved,  though  she  felt  that 
the  smile  on  her  lips  had  hardly  changed,  she  had 
undergone    a    spiritual    shock,    and    acquired   some 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


245 


r,  and 


iertion 
he  saw 
iie  saw 
,t  for  a 
!nt  sort 
nts  slie 
irceived 
ife   had 
'  a  mo- 
all    tlie 

rllt. 

be  stone 
e  that — 
e,  where 
neeling 
that  the 
that  was 
faith  it 


ting  that 
|t  seemed 
ited,  for 
Ifelt  that 
she  had 
led   some 


spiritual  knowledge  which  she  did  not  entirely  com- 
prehend till  long  afterwards. 

"  No,  hut  I  give  it  to  you,"  she  said.  "  It  is  not 
wrong  for  you  to  take  it." 

"Beauty  mutht  put  away  the  wing.  Beauty 
mutht  get  up  on  the  pony." 

There  was  a  note  almost  harsh  in  his  command, 
which  she  well  knew  was  the  nervous  betrayal  of 
the  pain  that  any  effort  of  further  persuasion  would 
give  him. 

She  put  away  the  ring,  and  mounted.  She  rode 
on  over  the  bridge,  and  he  after  her.  The  sunshine 
came  out  more  and  more  brightly  upon  the  hills  and 
upon  the  valley.  It  was  a  mild  sweet  morning,  the 
last  of  the  old  year. 

The  girl  rode  terribly  depressed  ;  she  felt  miser- 
ably ashamed.  The  power  this  man's  ideal  of  her 
had  over  him  transcended  her  vainest  wish,  and  she 
saw  herself  to  be  base.  She  remembered  the  lie  she 
had  acted,  even  since  he  had  befrien^^ed  her.  The 
thought  that,  if  she  had  chosen,  she  might  have  been 
the  noble  woman  that  he  supposed  her  to  be  was 
intolerable.    . 

She  had  not  attained  the  moral  height  that  sees 
joy  in  humility ;  she  hated  it.  The  air  was  eo  sweet 
and  fresh,  the  pleasure  of  getting  back  safely  to  some 
of  the  customary  environments  of  life  so  great,  that 
she  rebelled  against  her  misery  of  self-loathing. 


246 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


It  was  because  the  impression  was  deep  that  the 
tide  of  reaction  set  in  full  and  strong.  That  which 
makes  a  mark  on  the  soul  too  deep  ever  to  be  effaced, 
is  the  very  force  from  which  nature  reacts — not  be- 
cause that  nature  is  morbid,  but  because  it  is  human 
and  healthy.  We  seldom  understand  that  the  reason 
of  this  law  is  that  heaven  would  have  us  conserve 
the  energy  of  our  penitence  for  nobler  deeds ;  we 
have  not  faith  to  believe  that  this  natural  reaction 
makes  for  righteousness ;  and  so,  because  of  our  lack 
of  faith  in  God's  way,  we  think  ourselves  wicked  not 
to  dwell  with  sorrow,  and,  losing  self-respect,  go 
on  to  be  more  wicked,  refusing  to  dwell  with  .right- 
eousness. 

That  was  precisely  what  the  girl  did ;  she  felt 
that  she  would  have  done  well  to  mope  over  her  own 
unworthiness ;  and  because  she  could  not  and  would 
not  mope,  her  mind  for  the  time  being  gave  a  spring, 
like  a  bird  from  a  cage,  away,  not  only  from  dis'tress, 
but  also  from  all  tho  ight  of  high  endeavour.  Long 
habits  of  carelessness  asserted  themselves.  In  the 
bottom  of  her  heart  she  knew  that  she  must  return 
sometime  to  the  serious  longing  that  had  been  burnt 
into  it,  but  for  that  hour  she  was  the  creature  of  past 
habits. 


CHAPTER   XXY. 


Some  little  birds  with  grey  plumage  were  chirp- 
ing by  the  roadside  as  if  they  thought  the  time  for 
tlie  making  of  nests  was  not  far  off.  On  all  sides 
there  was  the  lightsome  rush  of  snow-rivulets  danc- 
ing through  sloping  pastures  to  the  river.  On  mist- 
bedewed  verdure,  on  streams  and  river,  the  sunlight 
sparkled. 

Mary's  heart  beat  high  -^ith  the  access  of  life. 
Just  as  one  recovering  from  the  pain  of  fever  feels 
that  the  mere  joy  of  living  is  enough  delight,  so  she, 
after  the  brief  storm  of  danger  through  which  she 
had  laboured,  felt  that  to  take  up  again  the  thread  of 
ordinary  life  would  be  a  new  and  delicious  excite- 
ment. She  began  to  invent  the  telegrams  that  she 
would  send  at  once  to  her  friends.  Engrossed  in 
their  sensational  wording,  she  smiled  frequently  to 
herself. 

She  did  not  intend  to  forget  the  dwarf.  She 
threw  him  a  kindly  sedate  remark  now  and  then,  but 
she  refused  to  allow  her  thoughts  to  linger  upon  him, 

347 


248 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


irt! 


because  that  provoked  depression.  It  would  be  time 
enough  when  she  came  to  bid  him  good-bye  to  think 
of  appropriate  words  in  which  to  converse  with  him 
to  some  purpose.  She  determined  to  find  out  his 
true  name  and  address,  and  afterwards,  through  her 
friends,  to  do  him  some  lasting  service. 

So  they  rode  on  upon  the  ungroomed  ponies.  In 
her  short  skirt  Mary  looked  almost  like  a  child  who 
had  climbed  upon  the  saddle  for  the  sake  of  play. 
The  mischievous  pleasure  of  inventing  her  telegrams 
gmoothed  from  her  round  face  all  those  lines  that 
told  of  age  and  experience.  Even  the  dwarf  looked 
happier  than  perhaps  since  his  own  childhood  he  had 
ever  looked.  The  pain  and  exaltation  upon  his  face 
were  for  the  hour  blended  into  a  hopefulness  that 
was  almost  serenity.  His  short  misshapen  figure 
gave  him  the  look  of  a  gnome  or  brownie  in  attend- 
ance upon  the  blithe  childlike  creature  who  rode  at 
his  side. 

As  they  neared  the  village,  upon  the  road  which, 
rough  as  it  was,  bore  some  semblance  to  a  high-road, 
they  saw  three  riders  coming  towards  them.  In  a 
minute  Mary  was  straining  her  eyes  to  look  at  the 
foremost  rider.  It  was  her  cousin,  Charlie  Howard, 
who  had  been  so  sad  when  she  left  Vancouver,  and 
who  was  now,  no  doubt,  searching  all  this  region  for 
her.  In  any  mood  she  would  probably  have  forgot- 
ten all  else  in  the  delight  of  the  recognition  ;  but  just 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


241) 


at  the  time  the  recognition  found  her,  she  was  most 
ready,  because  of  recent  reaction,  to  throw  herself 
into  the  present  without  a  thought  of  aught  else. 

With  a  cry  of  delight  she  set  her  pony  galloping 
forward,  and,  as  she  rode,  recognized  another  friend. 
It  was  the  missionary  who  had  been  with  her  in  the 
train. 

"  I  am  here  ! "  she  cried.  "  I  am  here !  How 
lovely  of  you  to  come  and  look  for  me !  Now  that's 
what  I  call  chummy." 

Her  cousin  was  a  town-bred  man,  with  a  light 
moustache,  and  he  looked  wonderfully  waxen  and 
fair  compared  with  the  men  of  the  wilds ;  but  he  was 
a  sturdy  fellow  for  all  that,  and  honest.  The  grey- 
haired  missionary  had  a  stately  way  with  him,  yet  he 
looked  at  home  in  the  wilderness. 

"  There,  don't  look  at  me  as  if  you  were  going  to 
eat  me  up,"  she  said.  "  I'm  here,  and  I'm  safe.  I 
nearly  lost  my  life,  and  my  money,  and  everything 
else.  Oh,  Charlie,  but  I  have  a  tale  to  tell  that  will 
turn  your  hair  grey !  Never  mind  now,  though. 
I'm  safe  enough,  old  fellow." 

"While  the  cousins  exchanged  their  words  of  al- 
mosf^ysterical  greeting,  the  dwa^f  was  quite  out  of 
hearing,  and  when  he  clearly  perceived  that  his  lady 
had  met  with  friends  he  was  in  no  haste  to  come  near 
her. 

"  He's  really  a  most  worthy  little  soul,"  said  Mary 


II 


250 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


Ill 


to  her  companions,  looking  back  to  where  the  dwarf 
was  coming.  "  Saved  my  life  " — she  nodded  emphat- 
ically. "  Yes,  he  did.  You'd  have  given  your  best 
boots,  Charlie,  to  have  saved  it  as  romantically  your- 
self. He  used  to  be  an  awful  villain,  I  believe ;  but 
you'll  have  to  smile  upon  him  now." 

The  man  who  was  riding  with  them  as  a  guide 
now  came  near,  and  said  a  few  words  to  Howard  and 
the  missionary,  in  an  undertone.  He  was  confirming 
the  statement  that  the  dwarf  was  a  villain ;  he  kept 
his  eye  apprehensively  on  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  He's  a  perfect  saint  now,"  put  in  the  girl  ea- 
gerly ;  "  if  he  was  a  villain,  he's  reformed.  Pat  him 
on  the  back  ;  he's  done  me  a  good  turn,  anyway." 

She  knew  perfectly  well,  even  while  she  spoke, 
that  her  words  did  not  in  any  way  represent  her  real 
feeling  towards  the  dwarf ;  they  did  not  even  repre- 
sent the  account  she  intended  to  give  her  cousin  later, 
but  they  seemed  to  her  to  serve  for  so  hasty  and  ex- 
cited a  meeting. 

When  the  dwarf  came  up,  Howard's  words  to 
him  were  civil  enough ;  they  had  in  them  that  tone 
of  superiority  which  is  the  product  of  civilization, 
but  this  was  not  painfully  obvious.  The  missionary 
would  have  ridden  beside  him,  but  the  girl,  overflow- 
ing with  excited  pleasure,  kept  both  her  friends  at 
her  side  talking  incessantly.  The  dwarf  could  have 
ridden  beside  them,  but  he  did  not ;  he  fell  behind. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


251 


i  dwarf 
jmpliat- 
►ur  best 
ly  your- 
ive;  but 

a  guicle 
vard  and 
iifirming 

lie  Vept 

;  girl   ea- 
Pat  him 

way." 

|lie  spoke, 
lier  real 

^en  repre- 

usin  later, 

ty  and  ex- 
words  to 
that  tone 
viUzation, 
missionary 

_,  overflow- 
friends  at 
could  have 
ell  behind. 


The  man  from  the  village  had  ridden  hastily  back,  to 
tell  his  news.  As  for  Mary,  excitement  had  brought 
on  the  most  boisterous  mood  to  which  in  former  days 
she  had  been  prone. 

"  And  so  you  came  to  look  after  me ! "  she  cried. 
"  How  long  have  you  been  on  the  search  ?  I  thought 
I  was  going  to  be  left  to  the  wolves  and  the  bears,  for 
all  my  friends  cared." 

The  missionary  told  her  that  her  travelling  com- 
panion was  in  the  village ;  she  had  come  to  every 
station  with  them  to  make  enquiries  and  to  await  the 
result  of  their  expeditions. 

"  The  old  brick !  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of 
her.  "Well,  th£,t  is  one  to  her.  And  it's  quite  too 
awfully  good  of  you,  too  " — this  to  the  missionary. 
"  Did  you  think  this  stray  sheep  wanted  shepherding  ? 
How  sweet  of  you!  Here's  Charlie  now — it  was 
nothing  more  than  his  duty.  You  needn't  both  look 
so  serious,  and  ask  such  a  lot  of  questions.  Did  I  fall 
far  ?  No,  I  didn't  fall  far  ;  I  fell  about  ^ve  feet,  into 
a  snowdrift.  Did  I  think  I  was  getting  out  at  a 
station  ?  No,  I  didn't ;  I  was  walking  in  my  sleep. 
Did  the  wolves  and  bears  eat  me  ?  No,  they  didn't ; 
I  never  met  one :  but  I  fell  in  with  as  nasty  a  lot  of 
men,  it  seems,  as  there  are  in  the  country.  But  they 
weren't  so  bad,  after  all.  That  encourages  me  to 
hope  that  even  in  the  infernal  regions  there  might  ^  t 
some  very  good  company.     For  I  was  scared  out  of 


II     I 


illHiii 
iiiiilli 


'!    !' 


252  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

my  seven  senses,  and  bound  to  get  off  if  I  could  ;  but 
then,  you  see,  in  the  infernal  regions,  one  would 
know  one  couldn't  get  off,  and  one  would  have  no 
character  to  maintain,  so  to  speak."  She  was  a  good 
deal  elated  to  think  that  a  man  of  weight,  such  as  the 
missionary  evidently  was,  had  come  so  far  for  her. 
She  was  touched,  too,  and  grateful ;  but  the  mere 
fact  that  he  was  religious  made  her  flippancy 
more  broad,  because,  to  her  falsely  educated  taste,  it 
seemed  the  more  humorous.  "  And  they  brought 
a  priest,  or  a  fellow  who  pretended  to  be  a  priest, 
to  marry  me.  You  i.3edn't  swear  under  your  breath 
like  that,  Charlie ;  it's  profane.  Now,  I  assure  you, 
I  haven't  used  a  bit  of  bad  language  since  I  saw  you 
last.  You  see,  they  had  some  civilized  notions  and 
primitive  ideas  about  them,  after  all ;  so  they  brought 
the  priest  to  impose  on  me.  Oh,  I  wish  you  had  seen 
him.  He  was  a  beauty !  I've  never  been  quite  sure 
whether  he  wasn't  a  stuffed  priest,  with  a  machine 
inside  wound  up  to  do  the  talking.  Don't  swear,  old 
fellow ;  it  doesn't  do  any  good ;  if  you'd  been  there 
at  the  time,  I'd  have  let  you  round  on  them  as  much 
as  ever  you  liked.  Why,  Charlie,  you're  looking 
quite  white  in  the  face !  Take  a  sniff  of  your  smell- 
ing-salts, if  you  have  any.  I  leave  that  ladylike 
habit  to  my  grandmothers.  But  I  tell  you  this — it 
was  a  farce  !  I  told  you  I  hadn't  been  indulging  in 
any  profane  language,  but  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  I 


% 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


253 


lid ;  but 

e  would 

have  no 

IS  a  good 

ch  as  the 
for  her. 

the  mere 

flippancy 

d  taste,  it 

Y  brought 

3  a  priest, 

our  breath 

issure  you, 

)  I  saw  you 

iOtions  and 

Ley  brought 

,u  had  seen 
quite  sure 
a  machine 
swear,  old 
been  there 
;tn  as  much 
ke  looking 
your  smell- 
tat  ladylike 
ou  this— it 
ndulging  in 
sure  that  1 


didn't !  You  know  I  talked  tall  to  them ;  I  talked 
pi'.  You  should  have  just  heard  me  talking  pi'  " — 
this  to  the  missionary.  ^'  They  were  just  at  that  stage 
when  piety  was  the  only  thing  they  respected  in  a 
woman,  and  I  put  it  on  thick." 

She  was  under  the  impression  that  the  dwarf, 
riding  behind,  was  altogether  out  of  hearing,  but, 
truth  to  say,  she  forgot  to  make  sure. 

Both  lier  companions  were  startled  by  what  she 
had  revealed.  Their  pain  on  her  account  was  evi- 
dent. Just  as  one  talks  hastily,  sometimes,  to  avoid 
tears,  so  she  was  talking  now  to  avoid  any  expression 
of  sentiments  too  obviously  called  for  to  need  expres- 
sion. 

They  were  passing  between  the  houses,  which 
stood  straggling  not  far  from  the  road.  They  were 
built  of  boards,  some  of  them  painted. 

"  Do  they  call  this  an  hotel  ? "  she  cried.  "  Do 
look !  Why,  it's  the  merest  pub'.  What  fun !  I 
never  stayed  at  a  pub'  before.  What  is  the  sort  of 
thing  you  ask  for?  Bum — isn't  that  the  national 
drink?" 

There  was  a  wooden  platform  or  gallery  extend- 
ing in  front  of  the  square,  ugly  hotel.  No  one  hap- 
pened to  be  on  it.  Quitv3  a  large  group  of  men  and 
women  stood  around  the  guide,  who  was  telling  that 
the  lady  was  found.     They  were  near  a  stable,  about 

twenty  yards  away.     They  all  stared  at  her  now. 
17 


254: 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


The  sense  of  this  body  of  spectators,  chiming  in 
with  her  excitement,  made  her  foolishly  dramatic. 
Her  cousin  lifted  her  from  the  pony,  and  set  her 
upon  the  verandah.  She  felt  that  his  strong  arms 
trembled  as  he  did  so.  Beside  the  recklessness  of 
her  high  spirits,  it  was  also  a  true  womanly  senti- 
ment which  made  her  wish  to  check  that  tremor  in 
him.  She  was  very  warm,  and  she  began  to  fan  her- 
self with  one  end  of  her  long  veil. 

"Now,  what  I  want  is  a  good  stiff  brandy-and- 
soda,"  she  announced,  "  and  then  half  a  dozen  ciga- 
rettes. I  think  I  could  almost  smoke  a  pipe  with  you. 
After  that,  we  can  settle  down  into  ordinary  hum- 
drum life  again.  Bless  you,  Charlie,  what  are  you 
looking  at  ? " 

The  missionary  had  gone  into  the  house  to  find 
her  friend.  Mary,  following  the  direction  of  her 
cousin's  fascinated  gaze,  saw  that  the  dwarf,  having 
dismounted  to  take  her  pony,  was  standing  at  the  edge 
of  the  verandah,  looking  up  at  her.  His  broad 
shoulders  and  sinewy  frame  were  fixed  in  an  attitude 
of  trouble,  almost  as  if  turned  to  stone.  His  head, 
always  so  nervously  posed,  was  thrown  back,  his  thin 
face  iipturned  to  hers.  The  first  look  of  the  mourn- 
ful eyes,  the  first  expression  of  thiit  weary  troubled 
face  was  sorrow — pure  sorrow,  the  pang  of  an  ex- 
ceeding great  disappointment ;  and  then,  as  they 
looked,  the  soul  that  could  feel  sorrow  died  out  of 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


255 


ming  in 
ramatic. 
Bet  her 
ng  arms 
xsue&s  of 
ily  senti- 
;reinor  in 
»  fan  her- 

• 

mdy-and- 
izen  ciga- 
with  you. 
lary  harn- 
t  are  you 

^e  to  find 
^n   of  her 
'f,  having 
the  edge 
[is  broad 
attitude 
LTis  head, 
:,  his  thin 
je  mourn- 
troubled 
lof  an  ex- 
as  they 
td  out  of 


the  face,  as  certainly  as  if  the  man  himself  had  died 
before  them.  A  minute  more,  and  he  was  the  low  ' 
cynical  fellow  that  he  had  been  when  she  first  knew 
him — and  worse  than  that,  for  there  was  a  scowl 
upon  his  face  which  meant — she  feared  to  think  what 
it  meant. 

"  I  think  that  fellow  is  a  sort  of  a  devil,"  said  her 
cousin,  when  the  dwarf  had  taken  her  pony  and  was 
gone. 

The  girl  did  not  answer  him ;  she  had  no  further 
word  at  that  time  for  him  or  for  herself,  no  further 
gesture  for  the  interested  spectators.  With  her  head 
bowed,  as  if  with  utter  fatigue,  she  went  into  the 
house ;  and  when  she  found  her  friend,  she  said — 

"  Let  me  lie  upon  a  bed  somewhere ;  let  me  rest." 

So  they  left  her  alone,  as  they  thought,  to  sleep ; 
but  she  lay  crouching,  shivering  with  a  new  distress, 
thinking  of  the  dwarf's  face  and  all  that  from  first  to 
last  she  had  read  in  it. 


I 


till     IIMlilliM    I 


CHAPTEE  XXVI. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  Mary  came  out  from  her 
room.  She  did  not  betray  her  trouble  of  heart.  She 
was  not  sufficiently  familiar  with  trouble  to  find  nat- 
ural expression  for  it.  She  asked  for  the  dwarf,  but 
no  one  could  find  him. 

Her  cousin  was  joyful  in  her  safety;  even  her 
friend  was  voluble.  The  missionary  was  preaching  in 
a  church  near  by.  Evening  came  ;  they  dined  and  re- 
tired, but  Mary  did  not  rest. 

At  eleven  o'clock  she  returned  to  the  door  of  the 
small  sitting-room,  and  looked  in.  It  was  a  bare  room, 
furnished  in  horse-hair,  and  perfumed  with  the  ghost 
of  many  a  cheaply-filled  pipe.  There  was  only  one 
person  in  it.  Charlie  Howard  was  sitting  on  a  sofa, 
sitting  apparently  doing  nothing.  His  face  looked 
haggard,  almost  aghast ;  and  when  he  saw  her  at  the 
door  his  expression  did  not  relax,  but  he  rose  as  if  she 
must  be  in  need  of  his  help. 

"  Don't  get  up,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  I  had 
heard  you  come  in." 

256 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


257 


rom  lier 
irt.  She 
find  nat- 
warf ,  but 

even  her 

^aching  in 

d  and  re- 

or  of  the 
are  room, 
he  ghost 
only  one 
m  a  sofa, 
ie  looked 
ler  at  the 
as  if  she 

lit  I  had 


She  shut  the  door,  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
horse-hair  chairs,  as  if  his  having  come  in  was  a  suffi- 
cient reason  for  her  action. 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  bed,"  he  said,  with  a  touch 
of  irritation.  "  What's  the  good  of  our  staying  here  a 
night  if  you  don't  rest  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  looking  so  cut-up  for  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  were  as  jolly  as  possible  at  dinner.  That  was 
why  I  came  down.  I  thought  you  would  cheer  me 
up.  Charlie,  I'm  frightfully  in  the  blues ;  but  I 
thought  you  were  jolly." 

"  You  are  tired  ;  that's  all  that's  the  matter  with 
you.  You  know  no  more  what  sort  of  people  you've 
been  with  than  a  child,  and  now  you'd  better  go  to 
bed  and  sleep  off  your  tiredness  like  a  child.  Go  to 
bed,  Polly.  I'm  in  dead  earnest.  Your  friend's  goiie 
to  bed,  and  you  ought  to  be  with  her." 

"  Bless  me  ! " — she  tried  to  put  on  an  air  of  spright- 
liness — "  is  the  spirit  of  my  grandfather  abroad  ?  " 

"  Don't ! "  He  spoke  irritably.  He  sat  down 
upon  the  small  hard  sofa,  and  dropped  his  face  in  his 
hands. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  asked  quite  j^-ntly. 

He  did  not  raise  his  face  fo^  '^  minute,  and  when 
he  did  there  was  a  redne^  .  about  his  eyes,  a  look  of 
constrained  feeling  in  the  boyish  features,  which  told 
her  that  he  had  undergone  some  shock. 

She  got  up  and  stood  by  the  bare  centre  table. 


258 


THE  MADONNA  OF   A  DAY. 


"  Charlie,  you  must  tell  me  ;  you  shall  tell  me. 
What's  come  over  you  since  dinner  ?  You  frighten 
me  ;  you  must  tell  me." 

"  It's  nothing."  He  spoke  with  the  irritation  of 
nervous  pain.  "  There's  nothing  for  yoii  to  he 
frightened  at,  I  tell  you." 

"  I  will  make  you  tell  me."  She  spoke  with  in- 
tense will. 

"  It's  only  that  when  I  was  out  I  saw  " — he  made 
a  gesture  that  was  like  a  shudder  of  disgust,  and 
then — "  that  brute,"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth. 

"  Who  ?  "  she  asked  sharply. 

He  sat  looking  at  the  floor,  as  if  seeing  something 
with  his  mental  eye  which  he  could  not  endure  to  see. 
After  a  minute  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  said, 
with  an  effort  at  pretended  indifference — 

"I  only  meant  that  I  had  happened  to  come 
across  that  little  cur  who  brought  you  in  this 
morning." 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  her  eyes  as  if  suddenly 
remembering  the  pain  that  the  long  weeping  of  the 
morning  had  wrought  in  them.  She  did  not  propose 
to  weep  now ;  she  only  pressed  her  fingers  upon  the 
heavy  eyelids.  The  young  man  did  not  see  the  ges- 
ture ;  he  was  not  looking  at  her. 

He  spoke  again  between  his  teeth.  "  Yes,  I  have 
seen  him.  I  never  knew  before  what  a  satanic  beast 
a  man  could  make  of  himself.     Oh " 


TJIE  MADONNA  OF  A   DAY. 


259 


The  last  expletive  had  been  almost  a  groan  ;  now 
he  nervously  hung  his  head,  as  if  bearing  some  part 
of  the  shame  that  every  wretch  brings  upon  his 
race. 

After  a  minute  she  said,  "  Why  does  it  hurt  you 
so  ?  It  hurts  me — I  don't  know  why,  but  it  nearly 
kills  me  to  hear  what  you're  saying.  I  suppose  you 
mean  that  he's  gone  on  the  spree  since  the  morning. 
They  call  him  Handsome — poor  Handsome." 

The  weariness  in  her  voice,  the  depth  of  its  pity, 
startled  him ;  he  sat  up  suddenly. 

"  Poor ! " — he  was  speaking  again  between  his 
teeth — "poor!  you've  not  the  slightest  conception 
what  he's  been  doing.  I  pray  God  you  never  may 
have  ;  but  don't  call  him  '  poor.'  "  A  harsh  nervous 
laugh  came  now,  that  ended  in  the  sort  of  shudder 
she  had  seen  before.  "Keep  your  pity  for  your- 
self. When  I  think — when  I  think  that  you  have 
been  in  his  clutches — in  the  clutches  of  him  and 
his  like " 

He  turned  his  face  from  her.     She  saw  that  he' 
was  very  nearly  moved  to  tears.     She  knew  that  for- 
merly his  susceptibility  to  emotion  had  amused  her, 
but  now  it  was  not  the  tendency  to  laughter  which 
she  felt  she  had  to  restrain. 

"Charlie,  if  you  show  such  a  tremendous  lot  of 
fresh  fatherly  feeling  for  me  I  shall  be  quite  fasci- 
nated.    One  has  only  to  fall  by  the  wayside  among 


260 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


I  I 


liilll 
Hi 


\ 


thieves  to  know  the  value  of  fellow-feeling."  Her 
voice  changed,  there  was  a  dreary,  nervous  ring  in  it. 
**  But  if  you  only  knew  it,  it  is  not  on  me  that  you 
need  waste  your  pity — not  on  nie ;  but  on  the  man 
that  you  are  calling  a  brute,  and  a  cur,  and  a  beast." 
Iler  face  had  become  white,  her  lips  trembled.  "  I 
don't  know  what  he's  been  doing  to-day — I  don't 
want  to ;  but  I  tell  you  this — if  I  were  " — she  stopped 
— "  something — I  don't  exactly  know  what,  but  some- 
thing better  than  I  am,  that  man  would  have  left  his 
husks  and  his  swine  behind  him  as  entirely  as  any  re- 
turned prodigal  ever  did.  You  may  not  believe  what 
I  say,  but  I  know  it  is  true,  because  I  saw  it  with 
my  eyes;  and  all  those  other  men  that  I  was  with 
are  just  like  him  in  that — they  could  be  turned 
into  any  sort  of  beautiful  thing  that  one  chose,  if 
there  were  women  to  do  it,  and  the  women  were 
angels." 

He  was  listening  to  her  now  with  considerable 
astonishment,  but  with  no  incredulity;  there  was 
nothing  of  that  in  his  character. 

"  But  the  worst  of  it  is,  Charlie — this  is  what  wor- 
ries me — I  don't  honestly  know  what  I  have  done 
that  is  wrong.  !N"ow  don't  preach ! "  She  said  the 
last  words  looking,  not  at  the  emotional  face  of  the 
young  man,  but  at  the  missionary,  who  had  come  into 
the  room  listening  to  her  words  as  he  came.  "  Don't 
preach,"  she  said.     "I  do  not  believe  in  the  little 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


261 


hunidrum  rules  and  regulations  that  men  make  for 
women ;  and  I  should  be  as  mean  and  sliabby  if  I 
conformed  to  what  I  do  not  believe  in,  as  any  heretic 
who  recanted  just  to  escape  being  burned." 

The  missionary  had  not  seen  or  heard  of  the 
dwarf.     His  mind  was  serene. 

"Certainly,"  said  he;  "certainly,  such  rules  are 
not  essential." 

Charlie  turned  upon  him  with  a  look  of  scorn, 
that  scorn  which  youth  in  its  high-strung  moods  al- 
ways has  for  the  casual  moods  of  even  heroes  or 
saints.  Then  he  said,  with  what  was  for  him  an  im- 
mense amount  of  courage — 

"  There  is  no  use  in  your  calling  rules  and  regu- 
lations humdrum,  Polly ;  if  you  only  knew  it,  there 
isn't  a  fellow  in  the  world  who  would  not  admire 
you  a  great  deal  more  if  you  gave  up  all  this  new- 
fangled rot." 

The  missionary's  eyes  twinkled.  They  were  grey 
deep-set  eyes ;  they  could  do  a  good  deal  of  twinkling 
under  the  grey  eyebrows  that  was  not  obvious,  but 
the  girl  happened  to  catch  his  glance,  and  answered 
it  sadly. 

"  As  I  value  freedom  much  more  than  that  sort 
of  admiration,  the  dear  boy's  words  are  not  to  the 
point,"  she  said,  "but  his  sentiment  is  all  right. 
What  be  means  to  say  is,  that  if  something  in  me 
were  different   from   what  it   is,  one  human  being 


I!li|iiii 


2G2 


THE  MADONNA  OF   A   DAY. 


m 


ulio  was  evolving  on  to  a  higher   plane  need   not 
have  fallen  back  into  the  beast." 

She  sat  down  and  put  her  elbows  upon  the  table. 
The  frock  that  her  friend  had  lent  her  was  too  large, 
and  the  sleeves  fell  back  from  her  white  wrists.  She 
leaned  her  chin  upon  her  hands,  and  looked  at  the 
missionary.  There  was  nothing  now  of  that  vibrating 
pathos  in  her  voice  which  had  pierced  the  hearts  of 
her  persecutors  when  she  turned  at  bay,  because  she 
had  no  thought  now  of  the  effect  of  her  speech  upon 
her  hearers — the  hard  dull  tone  of  self-absorbed 
trouble  was  hers. 

"  It  is  only  one  man,"  she  said,  "  one  little  mis- 
shapen man  ;  but  he  was  my  friend,  and  he's  lost.  I 
never  knew  what  on  earth  you  missionaries  meant 
when  you  talked  about  a  soul  being  lost,  before. 
Now  I  know,  for  I've  seen  it.  It  does  not  mean 
any  rubbish  about  St.  Peter  and  the  keys,  but  it 
means  something  that,  when  you've  seen  it,  haunts 
you  all  the  rest  of  your  life." 

For  a  moment  she  looked  at  the  stained  garish 
wall-paper  as  if  the  dreary  future  that  stretched 
before  her  were  as  hopeless  a  sight. 

"  And  the  thing,  you  know,  that  makes  my  pres- 
ent frame  of  mind  so  tiresome  is  that  I  really  don't 
know  exactly  what  to  repent  of.  If  I  could  see 
some  reformation  to  accomplish  in  myself,  that  would 
be  almost  satisfying,  but  I  am  sure  my  way  of  look- 


m   i 


TIIK   MADONNA   OF  A    DAY. 


2(i3 


tied   not 

le  table. 
30  large, 
,t8.     She 
d  at  the 
nbrating 
learts  of 
;aiise  she 
ecli  upon 
■absorbed 

little  mis- 
8  lost.  I 
es  meant 
t,  before, 
ot  mean 
^^s,  but  it 
kt,  liaunts 

led  garish 
stretched 

my  pres- 
lally  don't 
Icould  see 

\at  would 
of  look- 


ing at  things  has  always  been  the  most  sensible. 
And  as  for  humbugging  those  men  by  talking  pi' 
— it  was  their  fault  for  requiring  it." 

"  Naturally  you  are  satisfied  with  yourself  " — he 
spoke  in  a  consoling  voice — "  having  no  standard 
higher  than  your  own  opinion." 

"  I  can  have  a  high  standard  without  being 
pious,"  she  said  defiantly.  "  These  backwoodsmen 
are  simply  behind  the  times.  They  wore  brought  up 
to  associate  what  Charlie  calls  *  new-fangled  notions' 
in  woman  with  the  loss  of  goodness,  just  as  it  used 
to  be  supposed  that  sunlight  put  out  fire.  Had  they 
lived  in  the  last  ten  years  they  would  have  learned 
to  distinguish  between  fact  and  superstition.  That 
explains  most  of  it."  Iler  voice  lingered  difiidently 
upon  the  word  "  most." 

"It  doesn't  explain  it  all,"  said  Charlie,  impa- 
tient and  authoritative.  "  I'm  not  given  to  religion 
myself,  but  I  must  say  I  think  a  woman  ought  to 
be  religious." 

"Even  your  sentiments  have  a  f:lse  ring  now," 
she  answered. 

"  Well,  I  mean — I  dare  say  men  would  be  the 
better  for  being  religious  too." 

"  You  think  that  you  would  be  the  better  for 
something  within  your  reach  that  you  don't  try  to 
get.  That,  at  least,  is  a  depth  of  degradation  to  which 
I  never  sank."     The  steady  contempt  of  her  voice 


264 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


li 
ill 


m 


m 

.ill 


I 


i: 


entirely  confused  him.  "  Charlie,  it  is  just  that  pure 
unadulterated  idiotic  rubbish  that  you're  talking  that 
is  enough  to  make  every  sensible  woman  a  free- 
thinker in  religion,  and  custom,  and  everj^thing  else. 
Now  tell  me  !  " — she  turned  to  the  missionary — "  tell 
me  why,  to  fetch  those  men,  I  was  forced  to  be 
pious." 

The  missionary  was  standing  with  his  bac^ ,  against 
the  wall ;  he  looked  down  at  her,  speaking  as  if  to  a 
friend. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  if  you  invent  your  own 
ideal  it  must  vary  as  you  vary  with  every  phase  of 
thought?  Piety  involves  a  standard  of  beautiful 
character  entirely  outside  yourself,  and  higher  up. 
What  you  may  be  without  this  perfect  standard, 
those  men  could  only  guess  at ;  and  evil  minds  will 
always  guess  at  evil.  "What  you  must  be,  if  genu- 
inely religious,  all  have  some  dim  notion  of.  It  is 
this  holy  ideal  reflected  in  good  women  that  men 
worship  in  such  sort  that  they  can  subdue  selfishness 
in  its  presence.  Without  It" — he  looked  down  at 
her  with  a  kindly  smile — "  you  are  like  an  eclipsed 
moon,  lit  by  no  ray  of  higher  light.  You  are  not 
worthy  of  such  worship  as  this.  The  isort  of  worship 
men  ^.an  give  you  is  such  as  the  glutton  gives  to  his 
food,  the  miser  to  .lis  gold,  the  artist  to  his  thing 
^f  beauty — for  which  he  will  barter  the  world, 
truly,  but  only  that  he  may  indulge  himself.     You 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


2C5 


that  pure 
Iking  tliat 
Q  a  free- 
thing  else, 
iry— "  tell 
ced  to  be 

ic^ .  against 
T  as  if  to  a 

your  own 
[•y  phase  of 
f   beautiful 
higher  up. 
it   standard, 
minds  will 
•e,  if  genu- 
\  of.     It  is 
that  men 
|e  selfishness 
id  down  at 
an  eclipsed 
on  are  not 
of  worship 
gives  to  his 
|o  his  thing 
the    world, 
Inself.     You 


are  nothing  more  tlipu  an  object  of  selfish  delight; 
and,  except  for  a  little  while,  in  some  society 
whose  laws  have  been  made  in  deference  to  holy 
women,  nothing  can  save  you  from  becoming  the 
victim  of  man's  selfishness,  because  he  is  stronger 
than  you." 

''  It  is  modern  progress,  not  Christianity,  that  has 
raised  women,"  she  said.  No  troubled  soul  ever  re- 
peated its  creed  more  sincerely. 

He  smiled  shrewdly.  "  Poes  progress  reign  in  any 
land  where  woman  has  not  derived  her  strength  and 
beauty  from  the  imitation  of  tlie  Christian  ideal  ?  Has 
there  been  any  distinct  progress  in  any  nation  which 
has  not  exaltea  woman  for  the  sake  of  the  Christ  and 
his  mother  ? " 

"It  is  only  since  we  began  to  shake  ourselves  free 
from  the  superstitions  of  religion  that  we  have  hegun 
to  have  laws  that  are  just  to  women."  She  spoke 
eagerly.  "  And  there  is  much  to  do  yet  to  make  them 
just." 

"  There  is  much  to  do  yet  to  make  laws  just  to 
women,  because  the  germ  of  the  ideal  higher  life 
develops  very  slowly  in  Christian  nations ;  we  are 
only  by  degrees  learning  that  the  holy  woman  he^s  her 
place,  not  only  in  the  Church  or  at  the  hearth,  but  in 
the  market-place,  in  the  court  of  law,  in  the  chambers 
of  government.  In  all  these  places,  wherever  God's 
voice  is  calling  women  to  serve  their  fellow-creatures 


!!  i 


266  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

— there,  if  they  serve  also  this  high  ideal,  men  will  in 
all  respects  become  their  unselfish  allies." 

She  looked  at  him  with  kindliness,  but  there  was 
no  lifting  of  the  cloud  of  trouble  from  her  face. 

**  Considering  that  you  are  a  missionary,  and  can't 
help  preaching,  you  speak  very  fairly  ;  but " — she  gave 
a  gesture  of  restless  pain — "  these  ideals  have  been 
created  by  the  developing  moral  consciousness  of  the 
world,  not  sent  down  from  heaven,  and  we  are  now 
|j|j{i|i  ready  for  a  much  higher  ideal  than  nineteen  hundred 

years  ago.  We  want  to  get  rid  of  the  superstitions 
that  grew  up  then." 

"  I  think,  fair  lady  " — he  spoke  quaintly — "  that 
what  you  call  the  moral  consciousness  o  the  race  is 
the  outcome  of  man's  dealing  with  the  spirit  of  God, 
is  indeed  that  very  kingdom  of  Heaven  which  is 
within  us :  but  if,  as  you  think,  the  religious  conscious- 
ness is  nothing  more  than  moral  development  plus 
superstitions  that  drop  off  as  the  race  grows  older,  still 
my  argument  does  not  alter.  You  believe  that  the 
ideal  p-iven  us  in  the  Gospels  was  the  highest  outcome 
of  the  moral  consciousness  of  mankind  in  its  then  de- 
velopment :  I  say  that — if  only  to  subdue  the  selfish- 
ness in  men — there  is  need  that  women  should  still 
conform  to  this  same  ideal — higher  and  holier  if  you 
will  by  nineteen  hundred  years,  because  as  we  rise  in 
the  moral  scale  our  interpretation  of  the  ideal  must 
rise.     If  you  take  from  it  the  Divine  inspiration  that 


m. 


mi 


TEIE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


267 


!Ti  will  in 

:liere  was 
ace. 

and  can't 
—she  gave 
lave  been 
3SS  of  the 
s  are  now 
ti  hundred 
perstitions 

tly— "  that 
the  race  is 
t  of  God, 
which  is 
conscions- 
ment  plus 
older,  still 
e  that  the 
,t  outcome 
is  then  de- 
;he  selfish- 
lould  still 
|ier  if  you 
Iwe  rise  in 
deal  must 
lation  that 


you  call  the  supernatural,  you  only  take  from  yourself 
any  Divine  help  in  attaining  to  it.  You  cannot  by  re- 
moving the  supernatural  element  lower  the  ideal.  The 
ideal  which  the  moral  consciousness  of  the  race  has 
once  developed  must  grow :  it  may  be  seen  first  on 
one  side  and  then  upon  another,  but  at  heart  it  can 
not  change ;  if  it  did  there  would  be  no  law  of  progress, 
evolution  would  be  impossible." 

She  rose  with  an  incredulous  laugh,  and,  having 
risen,  she  felt  no  relief  from  the  movement  and  hoped 
for  none  by  leaving  the  room.  There  were  rude 
noises  to  be  heard  outside  the  house — noises  of  drunk- 
ards passing  by.  She  went  to  the  window,  peeping 
from  the  blind  in  mere  idleness ;  then,  sickened  at  the 
thought  of  whom  she  might  see,  she  turned  in  a  mo- 
ment, and,  out  of  mere  irritation,  took  up  St.  Paul 
upon  the  theme  of  women,  and  hurled  it  at  her  com- 
panions. 

"  Whose  writing  has  done  more  to  retard  the 
cause  of  women  ? "  she  asked  fiercely. 

"  It  is  not  St.  Paul's  fault  if  many  of  his  follow- 
ers have  misapplied  teaching  fitting  to  one  short  age." 

*'  Do  you  admit " — she  was  surprised  into  an  al- 
most joyful  laugh-  -"  do  you  admit  that  the  greater 
number  of  Christian'}  are  fools  ?  " 

"  Say  rather,  silly  sheep,  obstinately  straying  after 
any  leaders  who,  to  save  the  expense  of  constant 
thought  and  new  decisioiis  foi   each  fresh  phase  of 


268 


THE  MADONNA  OP  A  DAY. 


ill  I 


circumstance,  teach  that  piety  consists  in  some  old 
rule  of  life,  rather  than  in  that  attitude  of  the  soul 
which  ever  seeks  fresh  wisdom  from  above." 

She  felt  very  restless.  In  the  sounds  without  she 
fancied  she  heard  some  hideous  scene  connected  with 
the  debauch  of  the  dwarf.  She  turned  towards  her 
friends,  who  remained  passively  watching  her,  with  a 
sense  of  supreme  relief,  almost  of  affection  for  them 
both  in  the  knowledge  that  each  in  his  own  good 
way  was  good  to  the  heart's  core. 

"  Could  your  ideal  woman  treat  men  as  if  she  and 
they  were  rational  creatures,  instead  of  being  herself 
an  idiotic  piece  of  respectability,  like  our  old-fash- 
ioned women  ? "  She  was  speaking  only  in  idle  de- 
fiance. 

He  went  on  answering  with  a  quaint  good  humour 
which  betokened  the  inward  peace  that  perplexed 
her. 

"If  you  give  your  heart  to  Heaven,  fair  lady, 
that  heart  will  be  your  surest  guide ;  but  if  you  ask 
my  opinion,  I  would  say  there  is  nothing  that  a  good 
man  may  do  that  a  good  woman  may  not  do  also." 

She  began  to  speak,  but  stopped  suddenly. 

A  wild  yell  below  the  window,  the  sound  of  many 
feet  and  voices,  of  howls  and  execrations  mingling 
all  at  once  together  caused  her  heart  to  sink  in  an 
awful  fear  of  some  unknown  deed  of  violence.  The 
men  sprang  to  the  window,  throwing  it  open  to  look 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


2G9 


me  old 
tie  soul 

lout  slie 
ted  with 
ards  her 
r,  with  a 
for  them 
wn  good 

if  she  and 
i(T  herself 
:  old-fash- 
in  idle  de- 

od  humour 
perplexed 

fair  lady, 
if  you  ask 

that  a  good 

[o  also." 

lid  of  many 
|s  mingling 
sink  in  an 
lence.     The 
Ipen  to  look 


down   on   the  scene  beneath.     Then,  conscious  that 
they  attracted  attention,  they  extinguished  the  lamp. 

Nothing  of  importance,  nothing  more  than  usual 
riot  was  taking  place.  A  gambling  den  had  dis- 
charged its  occupants,  who  on  their  way  homeward 
had  fallen  out  with  one  another.  The  dwarf  was  not 
among  them,  but  in  Mary's  imaginative  fear  he  was 
there. 

She  did  not  go  to  the  window.  The  cool  night 
air  rushed  in ;  she  saw  the  dark  figures  of  her  friends 
dimly  outlined  against  the  gleam  of  lanterns  passing 
without.  She  held  by  a  chair  for  support,  trem- 
bling, faint,  heartsick.  She  said  to  herself  that  her 
nerves  were  unstrung  by  the  scenes  ihrough  which 
she  had  passed.  She  clenched  her  teeth  in  the  effort 
to  master  the  panic  of  her  heart.  She  heard  a 
drunken  woman  screaming,  swearing,  fighting  as  it 
seemed.  She  knew  now  that  once  and  for  ever  it 
had  been  branded  upon  her  imagination  what  it 
might  be  like  to  be  dragged  down  to  the  hell  from 
out  of  which  this  woman  shrieked.  Kever,  never 
again  could  she  hear  such  a  sound  without  feeling 
this  passion  of  fear  and  pity.  There  was  no  im- 
pulse in  her  as  yet  to  help.  She  only  cowered  before 
the  vivid  realization  of  this  hour  as  before  some 
spectre  which  had  suddenly  manifested  itself.  Yet 
she  found  she  was  still  straining  her  ears  for  a  sound 

which,  even  in  this  moment  of  abject  misery,  could 
18 


11 


lis::' 


270  THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 

increase  her  pain.  She  sought,  as  it  were,  among  the 
confused  howlings  for  the  voice  of  Handsome.  So 
acute  did  her  hearing  become  that  she  seemed  to 
count  the  men  who  were  below  by  their  voices — to 
be  able  to  estimate  the  degree  of  beastliness  into 
which  eacli  drunken  wretch  had  fallen.  She  did  not 
hear  the  voice  she  listened  for,  but  for  Ilandsome's 
sake,  it  was  pity  only  that  she  felt  for  these  men. 
She  knew  now  that  never,  never  again  could  she  see 
a  man  degraded  from  man's  estate  without  knowing 
that  women  might  have  held  him  up,  nay,  rather, 
exalted  him,  had  women  been  pure  enough  to 
do  the  work  that  was  given  them  to  do.  She  felt 
chill  with  a  sense  of  responsibility,  which  she  feared 
was  a  shadow  from  which  she  could  never  escape. 
She  pressed  her  hands  upon  her  eyes,  as  if  to  ex- 
tinguish the  thought,  and  then  suddenly,  against  the 
darkness,  a  face,  lit  by  the  light  of  the  past  morn- 
ing, flashed  before  her  burning  brain.  It  was  the 
face  of  the  dwarf,  in  his  exultation  over  bringing  her 
safely  on  her  journey,  in  his  wistful  effort  to  refuse 
the  diamond,  seeking  strength  and  comfort  by  an 
adoring  gaze  upon  her  own  beauty.  For  a  moment, 
III  by  a  freak  of  the  excited  brain,  she  stood  again  face 

to  face  with  him. 

"  Handsome,"  she  moaned,  "  poor  Handsome ! " 
And  then,  in  the  darkness,  she  sank  kneeling,  in  a 
passion  of  tears  that  for  the  time  brought  relief. 


THE  MADONNA  OF  A  DAY. 


imong  the 
;ome.     So 
eemed  to 
voices — to 
iness  into 
lie  did  not 
andsome's 
liese  men. 
lid  she  see 
;  knowing 
ty,  rather, 
nough    to 
She  felt 
she  feared 
er  escape. 
5  if  to  ex- 
-gainst  the 
Dast  morn- 
.t  was  the 
inging  her 
;  to  refuse 
Port  by  an 
a  moment, 
again  face 


271 


Her  two  friends,  with  their  heads  outside  the  win- 
dow, were  speaking  to  one  another. 

"I  thought  they  might  have  risen  up  to  catch 
and  lynch  him,"  said  Charlie.  He  was  speaking 
about  the  dwarf  to  the  missionary. 

But  the  other  answered  didactically,  "  It  is  more 
often  in  books  than  in  real  life  that  wickedness 
comes  to  a  speedy  end.  It  drags  out  a  long  course 
of  misery  here,  as  if  to  teach  us  that  in  this  life,  or 
in  any  other,  sin  can  find  no  easy  stopping-place." 

The  next  day  another  year  had  begun,  and  these 
travellers  set  out  perforce  upon  another  stage  of  their 
journey. 


THE    END. 


mdsome ! " 
eling,  in  a 
elief. 


11 

i 
r 

|i; 

II,-: 

I'll- 

.,;„... 

1 

1 

'■II 

iili:  .J,. 


I! 


I 


APPLETONS'   TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY. 


PUBLISHED    SEMIMONTHLY. 


1.  The  Steel  Ilammer.    By  Louis  Ulbaoh. 

2.  Eve.    A  Novel.    By  8.  Baring-Gould. 

3.  For  Fifteen  Years.    A  Sequel  to  The  Steel  Hammer.   By  Louis  Ulbacii. 

4.  A  Coumel  of  Perfection.    A  Novel.    By  Lucas  Malbt. 

5.  The  Deemster.    A  Romance.    By  Hall  Caine. 

5^  The  liondman.    (New  edition.)    By  Hall  Cainb. 

6.  A  Virginia  Inheritance.    By  Edmund  Pkndlkton. 

7.  Ninette:  An  Idyll  of  Provence.    By  the  author  of  V6ra. 

8.  "  The  Ilight  Honourable.^''  By  Justin  McCauthy  and  Mrs.  Campbbll-Pbabd. 

9.  The  Silence  of  Dean  Maitland.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 

10.  Mrs.  Lorinier:  A  Study  in  Black  and  White.    By  Lucas  Malet. 

11.  The  Elect  Lady.    By  Georob  MacDonald. 

12.  Th^.  Mystery  of  the  "  Ocean  Star."    By  W.  Clabk  Russell. 

13.  Aristocracy.    A  Novel. 

14.  A  Recoiling  Vengeance.    By  Frank  Babrett.    With  Illustrations. 

15.  Tlie   Secret  of  Fontaine-la- Croix.    By  Margaret  Field. 

16.  The  Master  of  Eathkelly.    By  Hawlby  Smart. 

17.  Donovan:  A  Modern  Englishman.    By  Edna  Lyau.. 

18.  This  Mortal  Coil.    By  Grant  Allen. 

19.  A  Fair  Emigrant.    By  Rosa  Mulholland. 

20.  The  Apostate.    By  Ernest  Daudet. 

21.  Raleigh  Westgate ;  or,  Epimenides  in  Maine.     By  Helen  Kendkick  Johnson. 

22.  Arius  the  lAoyan.    A  Romance  of  the  Primitive  Church. 

23.  Constance^  and  CalboVs  Rival.    By  Julian  Hawthorne. 

24.  We  Two.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

26.  A  Dreamer  of  Dreams.    By  the  author  of  Thoth. 

26.  The  Ladies'  Gallery.    By  Justin  McCarthy  and  Mrs.  Campbell-Prabd. 

27.  The  Reproach  of  Annesley.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 

28.  Near  to  Happiness. 

29.  In  the  Wire  Grass.    By  Louis  Pendleton. 
80.  iMce.    A  Berlin  Romance.    By  Paul  Lindau. 
30^.  The  Black  Poodle.    By  F.  Anstby. 

31.  American  Coin.    A  Novel.    By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

32.  Won  by  Waiting.    By  Edna  Ltall. 

83.  The  Story  of  Helen  Davenant.    By  Violet  Fane. 

84.  Ths  Light  of  Her  Countenance-.    By  H.  H.  Boyesen. 
36.  Mistress  Beatrice  Cope.    My  M.  E.  Lb  Clbec. 

86.  The  Knight-Errant.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

87.  In  the  Golden  Days.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

38.  Giraldi ;  or,  The  Curse  of  Love.    By  Ross  George  DbbiNv"'. 
89.  A  Hardy  Norseman.    By  Edna  Lyall. 

40.  The  Romance  of  Jenny  Ilarlowe,  and   Sketches  of  Maritime  Life.    By  W. 

Clark  Russell. 

41.  Passion's  Slave.    By  Richard  Ashb-Kino. 

42.  The  Awakening  of  Mary  Fenwick.    By  Beatrice  Whitby. 

43.  Countess  Loreley.    Translated  from  the  German  of  Rudolf  Mbkobr. 

44.  Blind  Love.    By  Wilkie  Collins. 

46.  The  Dean's  Daughter.    By  Sophie  F.  F.  Veitch. 

46.  Countess  Irene.    A  Romance  of  Austrian  Life.    By  J.  Fogbrty. 

47.  Robert  Broivrdno's  Principal  Shorter  Poems.  « 

48.  Frozen  Hearts.   By  G.  Webb  Appleton. 

49.  l^ambek  the  Georgian.    By  A.  G.  von  Suttner. 

50.  The  Crazeof  Christian  Engdhart.    By  Henry  Faulkner  Darnell. 

51.  Lai.    By  William  A.  Hammond,  M.  D. 

52.  Aline.    A  Novel.    By  Henry  Gr^villb. 

53.  Joost  Avelingh.    A  Dutch  Story.    By  Maarten  Maartbnb. 

54.  Katy  of  Catoctin.    By  George  Alfred  Townsend. 

55.  Throchmorton.    A?''"tvel.    By  Molly  Elliot  Ska wkuj. 

56.  ExpatHation.    By  the  author  of  Aristocracy. 

57.  Oeqffrey  Ham,pstead.    By  T.  S.  Jabyib. 


APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.— (Continued.) 


58. 

B9 

60. 

61. 

62. 

63. 

64. 

fXi. 

06. 

67. 

68. 

69. 

70. 

71. 

72. 

73. 

74. 

75. 

76. 

77. 

78. 

79. 

80 

83. 

frJ. 

85. 

i,    i                               86. 

Ill  ■ '                               87. 

!i                                     88. 

:             ■                   89. 

!l!l  ■•■                              90. 

91. 

i                                      98. 

1                                    98. 

Ii';                                     94. 

!'!'                                    95. 

,i;  ..; 96. 

97. 

98. 

99. 

100. 

101. 

102. 

1 

103. 

1 

i 

104. 

,| 

j 

105. 

■'i 

i  1 

206. 

'1 

iij 

107. 

,;i 

108. 

109. 

110. 

'  '                      1101 

111. 

112. 

1 

113. 

iiii 

114. 

III 

1 1 

115. 

III 

1 1 

116. 

ffl!' 

iii 

117. 

■';! 

118. 

119. 

:l 

WO. 

i 

li* 

, 

i 

3 

1 

1 

Dmitri.    A  Romance  of  Old  RupbIh.    By  P.  W.  Bain,  M.  A. 
Part  qf  the  I*roperty.    By  Bkatkick  Whitby. 
liitmarck  in  Private  Life.    By  a  Fellow-Student. 
In  Loiv  JielUf.    By  Moklet  Kobeuth. 

The  Canadians  oj  Old.    A  IliHtorical  Komance.    By  Philippe  Gabp4. 
A  Squire  of  Low  Degree.    By  Lily  A.  Long. 
A  Fluttered  Dovecote.    By  Ukokoe  Manville  Fenn. 
The  NvgejUa  of  Carriconna.    An  Irlnh  Htory.    By  TiaUE  Hopkins. 
A  Senmive  Plant.    By  E.  and  D.  (iKKABu. 

Doila  Lnz.    By  Juan  Valkua,    Trannlated  hy  Mre.  Mauy  J.  Seriiano. 
Peidta  Ximenez.    By  Juan  Valeba.   TrauHlated  by  M-b.  Mauy  J.  Heukano. 
Thii  I'rirme  and  their  Ntighbors.    By  Kicuaku  Malcolm  Johnston. 
The  Iron  Game.    By  Henry  F.  Keen  an. 
Stories  qf  Old  New  Spain.    By  Thomas  A.  Janvier. 
The  Maid  of  Honor.    By  Hon,  Lewis  Winofikld. 
In  the  Heart  of  ttie  Stortn.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 
Consemtences.    By  Euerton  Cahtle. 
The  Three  Miss  Kings.    By  Ada  Cambridge. 
A  Matter  of  Skill.    By  Beatrice  Whitby. 
Maid  Marian,  and  Other  Stories.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 
One  Woman's  Way.    By  Edmund  Pendleton. 
A  Merciful  Divorce.    Bv  P.  W.  Maude. 
Stephen  EllicotVs  Daughter,    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 
One  Reason  Why.    By  Beatrice  Whitby. 
The  Tragedy  oj  Ida  Noble.    By  W.  Clark  Rupbell. 
The  Johnstovm  Stage,  and  other  Stories,    By  Robert  II.  Fletcher. 
A  Widower  Indeed.    By  Rhoda  Brouohtok  and  Elliabeth  Bisland. 
The  Flight  of  a  Shadow.    By  Geor(»e  M  acDonald. 
Love  or  Money.    By  KATUAnmE  Lee. 
Not  All  in  Vain.    By  Ada  Cambridge. 
It  Happened  Yesterday.    By  Frederick  Marshall. 
My  Guardian.    Bv  Ada  Cambridge. 
27ie  Story  of  Philip  Methuen.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 
Amethyst :  The  Story  of  a  Beauty.    By  Christabel  R.  Colebidgb. 
Don  Braulio.    By  Juan  Valera.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell. 
The  Chronicles  of  Mr.  Bill  \Mlliams.    By  Richard  Malcolm  Johnston. 
A  Queen  qf  Curds  and  Cream.    By  Dorothea  Gebabd. 
"  La  Bella  "  and  Others.    By  Egerton  Castle. 
*'  December  Poses.''''    By  Mrs.  Campbell- Pbaec, 
Jean  de  Kerdren.    By  Jeanne  Schultz. 
FAelka's  Vow.    By  Dorothea  Gerard. 
Cross  Currents.    By  Mary  A.  Dickens. 
His  Life's  Magnet.    By  Theodora  Elmslie. 
Passing  tfie  Love  of  y\/omen.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 
In  Old  St.  Stephen''s.    By  Jeanie  Drake. 

The  Berkeley s  and  their  Neighbors.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 
Mona  Maclean,  Medical  Student.    By  Graham  Travbbs. 
Mrs.  Bligh.    By  Rhoda  Broughton. 
A  Stumble  on  the  Threshold.    By  James  Patn. 
Hanging  Moss.    By  Paul  Lindau. 
A  Comedy  of  Elopement.    By  Christian  Retd. 
In  the  Suntinie  of  her  Youth.    By  Beatrice  Whitby. 
Stories  in  Black  and  White.    By  Thomas  Hardy  and  Others. 
.  An  Englishman  in  Paris.    Notes  and  Recollections. 
Commander  Mendoza.    By  Juan  Valera. 
Dr.  PauWs  Theory.    ^  Mrs.  A.  M.  Diehl. 
Children  of  Destiny.    By  Molly  Elliot  Seawell. 
A  Little  Minx.    By  Ada  Cambridge. 
CapVn  Davy's  Honeyrtioon.    By  Hall  Cainb. 
ITie  Voice  of  a  Flower.    By  E.  Gerard. 
Singularly  Deluded.    By  Sarah  Grand. 
Susjjected.    By  Louisa  Stbatenus. 
Lucia,  Hugh  and  Another.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 
Th*  TuU/re  Secret.    Ey  Victor  Chebbuliez. 


Continued.) 


PK  OASPfc. 


OPKIKB. 

J.  Seiiiiano. 

AIIY  J.  8EUKAN0. 
loUNBTON. 


BIX. 


.KTcnEn. 

U  BiSLAND. 


LEBIDGB. 

^M  Johnston. 


lWELL. 


21. 

22. 
23. 
5M. 
liT). 
2«5. 
27. 
28. 
29. 
30. 
31. 
82. 
Xi. 
.3-4. 
36. 
3«. 
37. 
38. 
39. 
40. 
41. 
42. 
43. 
44. 
45. 
40. 
47. 
48. 
49. 
50. 
.51. 
52. 

.5;^. 

^. 
55. 
15G. 
57. 
58. 
59. 
CO. 
01. 
62. 
03. 
64. 
65. 
66. 
67. 
68. 
69. 
70. 
71. 
72. 
73. 
74. 
75. 
76. 
77. 
78. 
79. 
80. 
81. 
82. 
83. 
84. 


APPLET0N8'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRAHY. -(Continued.) 


From  the  Five  Rivers.    By  Mrs.  F.  i...  Strel. 

An  Innocent  lm}H)Htor,  and  Other  Stories.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 

Idealu.    By  Sakaii  Grand. 

A  Comedy  of  Mmks.    By  Kunkst  Dowbon  and  Abtbur  Moobi. 

Itdics.    By 't'uANrES  Mac'Nab. 

DoUo :  A  Detail  of  the  Day.    By  E.  F.  Benson. 

A  Woman  of  Forty.    By  Khm^  Stuaiit. 

IHana  Tempest.    By  Maby  Cuolmondeley. 

The  Itecipifor  IHar/ionds.    By  C.  J.  Cutcliffk  IIynb. 

Christina  Chard.    By  Mrs.  (,'amphell-I'raki). 

A  Gray  Eye  or  So.    By  Frank  Fkankfort  Muorb. 

Earlscourt.    By  Ale.xander  Allardyce. 

A  Muniage  Ceremony.     By  Ada  CamiiRidoe. 

A  Ward  in  Chancery.    By  Mth.  Alexander. 

Lot  IS,    By  DoROTUEA  Gerard. 

Our  Manifold  Nature.    By  Sarah  Grand. 

A  Costly  Freak.    By  Maxwell  Gray. 

A  Beginner.    By  Khoda  BRouauxoN. 

A  Ydlow  Aster.     By  Mrs.  Manninoton  CAFrTN  ("  Iota"). 

The  ItuMcon.    By  E.  F.  Benson. 

The  Trespasser.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

The  Rich  Misn  liiddell.    By  Dorothea  Gerard. 

Mary  Fenwick^s  Daughter.    By  I.eatrice  Whitby. 

Red  Diatmmds.    By  .iusTiN  McCarthy. 

A  Daughter  of  Music.    By  G.  Colmorb. 

Outlaw  and  Lawmaker.    By  Mrs.  Campbell-Praed. 

Dr.  Janet  of  Harley  Street.    By  Arabella  Kenealt. 

George  Mandeville'^s  Uusband.    By  C.  E.  Kaimond. 

Vashti  and  Esther. 

Timar's  Two  Worlds.    By  M.  Jokai. 

A  VtCtim  of  Good  Luck.    By  W.  E.  Norrib. 

The  Trail  of  the  Sword.    By  Gilbert  Parkeb. 

A  Mild  Barbarian.    By  Edoar  Fawcett. 

The  God  in  the  Car.    By  Anthony  Hope. 

Children  of  Circumstance.    By  Mrs.  M.  Cafftn. 

At  the  Gate  of  Samaria.    By  William  J.  Locke. 

The  Justification  of  Andrew  I^ebrun.     By  Frank  Barrett. 

Dust  and  iMicrels.    By  Mary  L.  Pendehed. 

The  Good  Ship  Mohock.    By  W.  Clark  Russell. 

Noemi.    By  S.  Baring-Gould. 

The  Honour  of  Savelli.     By  6.  Levett  Yeats. 

Kitty's  Engagement.    By  Florence  Warden. 

The  Mermaid.    By  L.  Douoall. 

An  Arranged  Marriage.    By  Dorothea  Gerard. 

Eve''s  Ransom.    By  George  Gissing. 

The  Marriage  of  Esther.    By  Gut  Boothby. 

Fidelis.    By  Ada  Cambridge. 

Into  the  Highways  and  Hedges.    By  F.  F.  Montr^sor. 

The  Vengeance  of  James  Vansittart.    By  Mrs.  J.  H.  Needell. 

A  Study  in  Prejudices.    By  George  Paston. 

The  Mistress  of  Quest.    By  Adeline  Sergeant. 

In  the  Year  of  Juinlee.    By  George  Gissing. 

In  Old  New  England.   By  IIezekiah  Butterwortu. 

Mrs.  Musgrave — and  Her  Husband.    By  R.  Marsh. 

Not  Counting  the  Cost.    By  Tasma. 

Out  of  Due  Season.    By  Adeline  Sergeant. 

Scylla  or  Charybdisf    By  Rhoda  Brougiiton. 

In  Defiance  of  the  King.    By  C.  C.  Hotchkiss. 

A  Bid  for  Fortune.    By  Guy  Boothby. 

The  King  of  Andaman.    By  J.  Maclaren  Cobban. 

Mrs.  lYegaskiss.    By  Mrs.  Campbell-Praed. 

The  Desire  of  the  Moth.    By  Capel  Vane. 

A  Self-Denytnq  Ordinance.    By  M.  Hamilton. 

Successors  to  the  Title.    By  Mrs.  L.  B.  Walfobd. 


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APPLETONS'  TOWN  AND  COUNTRY  LIBRARY.- (6'on«»w«rf.) 


185.  The  Lost  Stradivarim.    By  J.  Mbadk  Falkmbr. 

186.  The  Wrong  Man.    By  Dorotuka  Geraru. 

187.  Jn  the  Day  of  AUverHty.    By  J.  Bloundellb-Burton. 

188.  Mistress  Itorothy  Marvin.    By  J.  C.  Snaith. 
18a.  A  Flash  of  Summer.    By  Mrs.  W.  K.  Clifford. 

Each,  12mo,  paper  cover,  60  oents)  oloth,  $l,00i 


GEORG  EBERS'S  ROMANCES. 

Each,  IGmo,  paper,  40  cents  per  volume ;   cloth,  7S  cents, 
Seta  of  '/i-l  volatneSf  cloth,  in  box,  $18,00. 

In  the  Blue  Pike.  A  Romance  of  German  Life  In  the  early  Sixteenth  Century. 
Translated  by  Mary  J.  Sapford.    1  volume. 

In  the  Pire  of  the  Forere.    A  Romance  of  Old  Nuremberg.    Translated  by 

Mary  J,  Safford.    2  volumes. 

* 

Cleopatra.    Translated  by  Mary  J.  Safford.    2  volumes. 

A  Thorny  Path.    (Per  Aspera.)    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    2  volumes. 

An  Egyptian  Prinoess.    Translated  by  Eleanor  Grove.    2  volumes. 

TTarda.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    2  volumes. 

Homo  Sum.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    1  volume. 

The  Sisters.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    1  volume. 

A  Question.    Translated  by  Mary  J.  Safford.    1  volume. 

The  Emperor.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    2  volumes. 

The  Burgromaster's  Wife.    Translated  by  Mary  J.  Safford.    1  volume. 

A  Word,  only  a  Word.    Translated  by  Mary  J.  Safford.    1  volume. 

Serapis.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    1  volume. 

The  Bride  of  the  Nile.    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    2  volumes. 

Margrery.    (Gred.)    Translated  by  Clara  Bell.    2  volumes. 

Joshua.    Translated  by  Mary  J.  Safford.    1  volume. 

The  Elixir,  and  Other  Tales.     Translated  by  Mrs.  Edward  H.  Bell. 
With  Portrait  of  the  Author.    1  volume. 

"  Dr.  Ebers's  romances  founded  on  ancient  history  are  hardly  equaled  by  any 
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"  Georg  Ebers  writes  stories  of  ancient  times  with  the  conscientiousness  of  a 
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tended to  be  popular."— iV«M)  York  Herald.  •  ' 


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;  Continued.) 


00. 


CES. 


Ih,  7S  cent** 

Sixteenth  Century, 
•g.    Translated  by 


ILL.    2  volumes. 
2  volames. 


ORD.    1  volume. 
D.    1  volume. 

umes. 

>WARD  H.  Bell. 


ly  equaled  by  any 
1  the  scenes  move 

pentiousness  of  a 
Urtions  of  them 
Is  of  hietorles  in- 


the  publishert, 
Lvenue. 


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his  new  field  will  enlarge  the  wide  circle  of  his  admirers.  The  lights  and 
shadows  of  curious  phcises  of  Edinburgh  Hfe,  and  of  Scotch  farm  and  rail- 
road life,  are  pictured  with  an  intimate  sympathy,  richness  of  humor,  and 
truthful  pathos  which  make  this  new  novel  a  genuine  addition  to  literature. 
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author's  early  dreams,  too  bright,  too  gorgeou*!,  too  full  of  the  blood  of  rubies  and  the 
life  of  diamonds  to  be  caught  and  held  palpitating  in  expression's  grasp." — Boston 
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beautiful  woman ;  and  if  any  other  love  story  half  so  sweet  has  been  written  this  year, 
it  has  escaped  our  notice." — New  York  Times. 

"  The  general  conception  of  the  story,  the  motive  of  which  is  the  growth  of  love 
between  the  young  chief  and  heroine,  is  delineated  with  a  sweetness  and  a  freshness, 
a  naturalness  and  a  certainty,  which  places  '  The  Lilac  Sunbonnet '  among  the  best 
stories  of  the  time." — New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"In  its  own  line  this  little  love  stnry  can  hardly  be  excelled.  It  is  a  pastoral,  an 
idyl  -the  story  of  love  and  courtship  and  marriage  of  a  fine  young  man  and  a  lovely 
girl— no  more.  But  it  is  told  in  so  thoroughly  delightful  a  manner,  with  such  plaj'^ful 
humorj  such  delicate  fancy,  such  true  and  sympathetic  feeling,  that  nothing  more  could 
be  desired."— .^m/ow  Traveller. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


INS. 


TV.      His 

,i.lac  Sunbon- 
i2mo.    Cloth, 

.f  Cleg  Kelly  a 
Ijnal  success  in 

The  lights  and 
\  farm  and  rail- 

of  humor,  and 
on  to  literature. 
ackle  Alick— are 
i  illustrations  of 
and  sympathetic 

lird    edition. 

rds  that  thrill  and 
ire  fragments  of  the 
od  of  rubies  and  the 
I's  grasp."--^''*''"* 

to  the  reader  for  its 
^yxas^tivcr— Boston 

lated  by  the  writer's 

ixth    edition. 


Ll.oksome,  sunshiny 
Es  merely  a  good  and 
fen  written  this  year, 

^  the  growth  of  love 
less  and  a  freshness, 
net' among  the  best 

I  It  is  a  pastoral,  an 
Ig  man  J.nd  a  lovely 
Ir,  with  such  playful 
ft  nothing  more  could 


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►WIN    PUGH. 

ill  mark  this  book 

live  genius  some- 

:  brought  out  this 

arly  suburban  life 
ing  prose." — Bos- 

jus.    Trans- 

lEST  DoWSONo 


■  royal  portraiture, 
dubious  path  have 
an  extraordinarily 

irld  such  a  master- 
Jed  '  Majesty.'  "— 

;  to  be  read  by  all 
fiction."— i^A^^a/o 


OND,  author 
Cloth,  $i.cx). 

whose  cadences 
not  to  be  meas> 

>r  its  matter  and 

iperstitions  which 
of  a  wholesome 


FDERMANN. 

Lee.    i2mo. 

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» 

TWO   REMARKABLE   AMERICAN   NOVELS. 

HE  RED  BADGE  OF  COURAGE.  An  Epi- 
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Cloih,  |i.oo. 

"Mr.  Stephen  Crane  is  a  great  artist,  with  something  new  to  say,  and  conse- 
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tions that  go  to  make  up  what  men  call  war.  .  .  .  Mr.  Ciane  has  added  to  American 
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way,  inimitable." — Boston  Beacon. 

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and  vim.  The  style  is  as  keen  and  bright  as  a  sword- blade,  and  a  Kipling  has  done 
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'  I 


;l    i 


i-    iiil 


/ 


JV  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KING.    A  Romance  of 

the    American    Revolution.      By   Chauncey    C.    HoTCHKlss. 

i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

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of  the  Revolution." — Boston  Herald. 

"  The  story  is  a  strong  one— a  thrilling  one.  It  causes  the  true  American  to  Hush 
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"  The  heart  beats  quickly,  and  we  feel  ourselves  taking  part  in  the  scenes  described. 
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"One  of  the  most  readable  novels  of  the  year.  .  .  .  As  a  love  romance  it  is  charm- 
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"  This  romance  seems  to  come  the  nearest  to  a  satisfactory  treatment  in  fiction  of 
the  Revolutionary  period  that  we  have  yet  had." — Buffalo  Courier. 

"  A  clean,  wholesome  story,  full  of  romance  and  interesting  adventure.  .  .  .  Hold!, 
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New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


■1 .  .iJ. 


ONS. 


ELS. 

'.     An  Epi' 

RANE.      I2mO. 


sajr,  and  conse- 
af  Courage '  Mr. 
picture  that  chal- 
:rre  et  la  Paix '  or 

lo  searching  in  its 
he  Red  Badge  of 
ess  of  battle.  .  .  . 

els  that.^with  per- 
ire  have  been  the 

rhen  once  you  are 

scenes.  .  .  .  Mr. 

s  power  of  realiza- 

the  vivid,  uncom- 
ely mingled  condi- 
dded  to  American 
n  its  own  peculiar 

rell  depicted.  .  .  . 

color,  movement, 

I  Kipling  has  done 


Romance  of 

HOTCHKISS. 


into  the  night  to 
3usly  true  picture 

V.merican  to  Hush 
lart ;  and  it  fairly 

scenes  described. 
'hicago  Evening 

ance  it  is  charm- 
aring." — Boston 

nent  in  fiction  of 

ure.  .  .  .  Hold;. 
.  A  remarkably 


venue. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

GILBERT   PARKER'S  BEST   BOOKS. 

^HE   SEATS   OF   THE   MIGHTY.      Being  the 
•^       Memoirs  of  Captain  Robert  Moray,  sometime  an  Officer  in 

the  Virginia  Regiment,  and  afterward  of  Amherst's  Regiment. 

i2mo.     Cloth,  illustrated,  $1.50. 

For  the  time  of  his  story  Mr.  Parker  has  chosen  tht  most  absorbing  period 
of  the  romantic  eighteenth-century  history  of  Quebec.  The  curtain  rises  soon 
after  General  Bradd()ck's  defeat  in  Virginia,  and  the  hero,  a  prisoner  in  Que- 
bec, curiously  entangled  in  the  intrigues  of  La  Pompadour,  becomes  a  part 
of  a  strange  history,  full  of  adventure  and  the  stress  of  peril,  which  culminates 
only  after  Wolfe's  victory  over  Montcalm.  The  material  offered  by  the  life 
and  history  of  old  Quebec  has  never  been  utilized  for  the  purposes  of  fiction 
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A   Novel. 


his 


'J^'HE    TRAIL    OF    THE     SWORD. 

-*        i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

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phia  Bulletin. 

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abounding  in  incident,  and  marked  by  good  character  drawing." — Pittsburg  Times. 

"Y^HE     TRESPASSER.      i2mo.      Paper,  50  cents; 


I 


cloth,  $1.00. 


"Interest,  pith,  force,  and  charm— Mr.  Parker's  new  story  possesses  all  these 
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cause they  are  real.  We  read  at  times— as  we  have  read  the  great  masters  of  romance 
— breathlessly." — The  Critic. 

"  Gilbert  Parker  writes  a  strong  novel,  but  thus  far  this  is  his  masterpiece.  ...  It 
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T 


HE  TRANSLATION  OF  A    SAVAGE. 

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Boston  Home  Journal. 

"  The  penisal  of  this  romance  will  repay  those  who  care  for  new  and  original  types 
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— London  Daily  News.      

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


D.  APPLETON  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
**  A  better  book  than  '  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.* "— London  Quttn. 

n^HE   CHRONICLES   OF  COUNT  ANTONIO, 

•*        By  Anthony  Hope,  author  of  "The  God  in  the  Car,"  *'  The 

Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  etc.     With  photogravure  Frontispiece  by 

S.  W.  Van  Schaick.     Third  edition.     r2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  No  adventures  were  ever  better  worth  recounting  than  are  those  of  Antonio  of 
Monte  Velluto,  a  very  Bayard  among  outlaws.  .  .  .  To  all  those  whose  pulses  still  stir 
at  the  recital  of  deedi  of  high  courage,  wc  may  recommend  this  book.  .  .  .  The  chron* 
icle  conveys  the  emodon  of  heroic  adventure,  and  is  picturesquely  written." — London 
Daily  News. 

"It  has  literary  merits  all  its  own,  of  a  deliberate  and  rather  deep  order.  ...  In 
point  of  execution  '  The  Chronicles  of  Count  Antonio '  is  the  best  work  that  Mr.  Hope 
has  yet  done.  The  design  is  clearer,  the  workmanship  more  elaborate,  the  style  more 
colored.  .  .  .  The  incidents  are  most  ingenious,  titty  are  told  quietly,  but  with  great 
cunning,  and  the  Quixotic  sentiment  which  pervades  it  all  is  exceedingly  pleasaat"— 
Westminster  Gazette. 

"  A  romance  worthy  of  all  the  expectations  raised  by  the  brilliancy  of  his  former 
books,  and  likely  to  be  read  with  a  keen  enjoyment  and  a  healthy  exaltationf,  of  the 
spirits  by  every  one  who  takes  it  up." — The  Scotsman.  I 

"A  gallant  tale,  written  with  un&iling  freshness  and  spmt.'*— London  Daily 
Telegraph. 

"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  romances  written  in  English  within  many  days.  The 
quaint  simplicity  of  its  style  is  delightful,  and  the  adventures  recorded  in  these '  Chron- 
icles of  Count  Antonio '  are  as  stirring  and  ingenious  as  any  conceived  even  by  Wey- 
man  at  his  best."— Hew  York  World. 

"  Romance  of  the  real  flavor,  wholly  and  entirely  romance,  and  narrated  in  true  ro- 
mantic style.  The  characters,  drtiwn  with  such  masterly  handling,  are  not  merely  pic- 
tures and  portraits,  but  statues  that  are  alive  and  step  boldly  forward  from  the  canvas." 
—Boston  Courier. 

"  Told  in  a  wonderfully  simple  and  direct  style,  and  with  the  magic  touch  of  a  man 
who  has  the  genius  of  nanative,  making  the  varied  incidents  flow  naturally  and  rapidly 
in  a  stream  of  sparkling  discourse."— Detroit  Tribune 

"  Easily  ranks  with,  if  not  above,  'A  Prisoner  of  Zenda.'  .  .  •  Wonderfully  strong, 
graphic,  and  compels  the  interest  of  the  most  ^/oj/ novel  K?iAcT."— Boston  Advertiser. 

I  "  No  adventures  were  ever  better  worth  telling  than  those  of  Count  Antonio.  .  .  . 
The  author  knows  full  well  how  to  make  every  ^  ube  thrill,  and  how  to  hold  his  readers 
under  the  spell  of  his  magic." — Boston  Herald. 

"  A  book  to  make  women  weep  proud  tears,  and  the  blood  of  men  to  tingle  with 
knightly  fervor.  .  .  .  Iii  Count  Antonio '  we  think  Mr.  Hope  surpasses  himself,  as  he 
has  already  surpassed  all  the  other  story-tellers  of  the  period." — New  York  Spirit  of 
the  Times. 


Vevr  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


V*    «o.>   1     ^ 


^<** 


DNS. 

ndon  Queen, 

\NTONIO, 

e  Car,"  '*  The 

rontispiece  by 

3th,  1 1. 50. 

lose  of  Antonio  of 
?se  pulses  still  stir 
.  .  .  .  I'be  chron* 
rritten." — London 

!ep  order.  ...  In 
trie  that  Mr.  Hope 
ite,  the  style  more 
ly,  but  with  great 
ingly  pleasaat"— 

incy  of  hi«  former 
^  exaltationi  of  the 

" — London  Daily 

I  many  days.  The 
:d  in  these  '  Chron- 
kred  even  by  Wey- 

larrated  in  true  ro- 

ire  not  merely  pic- 

from  the  canvas." 

gic  touch  of  a  man 
curally  and  rapidly 

Wonderfully  strong, 
Scston  Advertiser. 

>unt  Antonio.  .  .  . 
to  hold  his  readers 

nen  to  tingle  with 
sses  himself,  as  he 
^€Vi  York  Spirit  0/ 


Avenue 


